“Then we should probably head back out there and see what’s going on.”
We rejoin the others to find Stella beaming at her phone.
“The Stillwater Bay Centennial! The city wants to hire me to plan the whole event! This is the biggest client I’ve ever worked with!” She looks around, flushed and blinking. “Not to make it all aboutme or anything.”
Lucy jumps up to hug her, stumbling a little when the boot hits the floor. She laughs, steadies herself, then throws her arms around Stella.
“This is huge,” she says. “You’re going to knock it out of the park.”
Bennett doesn’t say anything. Just sits there, chewing his lip in a rare moment of silence.
I watch him watch Stella with a softness that doesn’t jive with his wholeI’ve hated her my whole lifevibe. His jaw tics. His fingers twitch like he wants to say something and can’t.
Lucy releases Stella and wobbles again. “I thought I’d be glad to be done with the crutches—and I am!—but this boot is heavy and hard to walk in.”
“On that note,” I say, patting my pockets for my keys, “it’s probably best to get you home and off that foot.”
Home.
The word echoes through my chest.
Life with Lucy has made my house a home.
And as much as I want to keep her, I know it can’t be permanent.
She’s going to heal.
She’s going to leave.
And if I let myself fall now—if I crack open this heart and make room for her the way my mother and brother both suggest—then what happens when she’s gone?
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lucy
I chatter with excitement on the way home from Nora’s while Nash quietly navigates the streets, nodding and smiling, but distinctly quiet. The lull in his energy makes me talk more—to fill the space, yes, but also because I feel light in a way I haven’t in weeks. Maybe months. Maybe since before I left Los Angeles. Everything in me is warm and buzzing, like I’ve been poured full of sunlight and possibility.
My phone pings. I half expect it to be Stella, maybe Gabby, teasing me about Nash inviting me to family dinner. But it’s Mom.
I groan, quietly, reflexively, then immediately feel like a jerk.
She’s my mother. Complicated. Well-meaning. Over-involved in all the wrong ways and curiously absent inthe right ones. But she deserves better than my knee-jerk dread.
Been a few days. Hope all is well. Coffee again soon? Would love to hear about your plans for the future.
Innocuous enough. But that last line lands like it was crafted by a committee. I can almost hear Dad’s voice in the background, pointing out how “irresponsible” it is for a grown woman to be couch-surfing through her quarter-life crisis. It always comes back tothe plan. What I’m doing next. How I intend to make my life more palatable and polished to his standards.
“Everything okay?” Nash asks, without looking over.
“It’s fine,” I say, fingers tapping out a polite reply before I can overthink it.Would love to. Let me know what works.I lock my phone, then glance over at him, watching the way his profile is lit by the last gold slant of sun. He hasn’t spoken more than a handful of words since we left.
“Funny though,” I say, keeping my tone light, “I was gonna ask you the same thing. You’ve been quiet tonight. Everything okay?”
“I’m just processing.”
With Nash, that could mean anything. Maybe Bennett said something that hit a nerve. Maybe he’s building a case against me in his mind like a defense attorney preparing for an emotional trial. I don’t know. So I keep talking. Because my heart is too full to stay quiet. Because I want him to share in that light.
“I really liked getting to see everyone again. It kind of felt like no time had passed since I last saw them, except now we’re all older and taller. And you were there. That’s new.” I glance at the silent man beside me. “It’s strange that I spent so much time with your family and never met you until now.”
