“No. She doesn’t get out much. Actually, that day we were in the diner was one of the few times we’ve opted to do something after her appointment. It started as she was going through her intense chemo—the not getting out part. We were worried about her getting sick since her body was so compromised. Even after the chemotherapy stopped working, she never truly recovered that aspect of her life.”
“So I was lucky then …” She trails off. Then seeing my confusion, adds, “Seeing her on a rare day out, I mean.”
I lean back, studying her. That’s an optimistic way to look at it, and definitely not something I’d have pictured based on her demeanor, or the book I happened upon in that hospital room.
“She’d be ecstatic to know you find meeting her lucky. You know she liked you? It’s been a while since people have looked at her like anything other than sick and dying.” I smirk, thinking how my mother would preen at the words Lily just offered me.
Lily turns to face me, the brightness in her irises blurring any and all thoughts. “Sounds like she’s lucky to have you, Ranger.”
I shrug. “Too bad I can’t have her thinking that about her nurses. The woman simply won’t keep a nurse. She keeps on firing them or yelling at her doctor, refusing his advice for hospice.” Removing my hand from the back of the bench, I leanforward, my thighs spread, making them the perfect spot to rest my forearms.
I’m not sure when this conversation got so heavy, and I’m not sure why talking to Lily about it makes me feel better.
“Maybe she needs something different.” Lily sighs, and I hold on, waiting for her to continue. “I mean, maybe she needs someone more as a companion, rather than the constant reminder her days are numbered. I’d fire my nurses, too.”
I rear back, almost as if slapped by her thoughts. I want to laugh out of sheer fascination, but I don’t want to scare her away. Her insight though … it rings true. My mother isn’t a stranger to the truth about her condition and the rapid disintegration of her health. Perhaps I’ve been approaching my mother wrong all along.
“That’s … a good point,” I say.
Lily purses her lips and slowly bobs her head up and down.
Max suddenly stands and spins, alerting to something behind the bench. He lets out a low growl, and Lily and I both twist toward the alley between two shops—Pinebrook’s bakery and a used bookstore. Dusk blots out most of the remaining natural light, and though the streetlamp on the corner offers a weak glow, it barely reaches the narrow passage. A gust of wind funnels through the alley, carrying a chill that snakes underneath the collar of my sweater, and Lily shivers in my peripheral.
A heavy dark shadow shifts, the subtle movement flickering in the deepened alcove. The shadow is tall, human in stature. Max barks, and something darts, quick and fluid, rustling in the debris. He bolts, only to be met with resistance at the end of his leash.
“Aus.Bleib,” I command, standing to grab on to his collar.
Several people clustered close by the bench grow quiet, looking at us.
“Probably just someone passing through,” I say, loud enough for those around to hear.
Lily abruptly stands, breaths ragged and her pupils blown unnervingly wide. “I should go. See ya, Ranger.”
She tries to sound casual, like she wasn’t just spooked by whoever detoured through the alleyway. The way she’s shaking—a prickling sensation spreads at the base of my neck, the cool air meeting those tiny, raised hairs.
This is it? We’d only started talking, and I … I grapple for something. “L-let me walk you to your car.”
She tosses a look over her shoulder that tells meyeah right, and the corner of her mouth twitches. Is she trying not to smile? Anything would be better than the terrorized look on her face seconds ago.
“Bye, Max,” she says, walking off, leaving Max and I staring after her until she rounds the corner.
It’s dark after I finally finish helping Morgan deconstruct her booth and load her car. The towering white tents won’t be taken down until tomorrow, but the tables and chairs have already been put on trailers for the rental company to come get in the morning.
I smile as I walk to my truck, feeling more content than I did upon arrival. I parked a few blocks from the festivities, wanting to leave the closer parking spaces for families and older locals who like to come enjoy the annual tradition.
Max trots at my side while night blankets the block, the moon and stars offering little light. Reaching my truck, I open the back door, and Max leaps inside.
As soon as I shut the door, the faint glow of a streetlamp reflects in the car window, and—movement? In the corner of the reflection, the silhouette becomes clearer, closer. My heart jolts when I catch the steady footsteps against the pavement, growing louder.
I force myself to remain still, eyes locked on the window, watching as the figure approaches from behind. The night air presses heavy against my skin, and the faint distant traffic is underscored by the growing tension. Another step—they’re closer now, and the sound of their breathing carries in the quiet.
My hand drifts to my side as I reach for my personal carry weapon. Was the alleyway a fluke? The same unnerving feeling slivers its way into my veins. Fingers on my gun, I take another glance at the window.
The male is wearing a hat and—I spin around, locking eyes with Brent.
“Whoa, Noah. It’s just me.”
I shake my head, dropping my hands to my sides. “What the hell, man? What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”
