Daisy stiffens slightly but nods. “I understand.” She gets to her feet. “Ithink I hear your mum and sister are coming back. I should let you rest.”
I follow her gaze as Mum and Ellenor reappear down the hall carrying food, Ellenor watching Daisy with suspicion.
“Take care, Lily,” Daisy murmurs, before slipping out past them.
Ellenor steps inside, eyes narrowing. “Well? What did she want?”
I recount it all—the apology, the café, the tension. Ellenor listens with growing outrage.
“I don’t trust her,” she finally says. “She’s trying to soften us up. She knows Jack messed up and is trying to cover his ass.”
“I don’t think she came to manipulate us,” I say slowly. “She’s just…torn.”
She folds her arms. “I think Dustin knows exactly what’s happened, and Daisy’s doing damage control.”
“Maybe,” I echo, though the certainty isn’t there.
As I replay her visit in my mind, a dull ache settles in my chest.
I wanted her visit to mean more.
I wanted her to come because she cares about me.
And maybe she does.
But she also came because she cares about Jack.
The truth, I’m learning, sits somewhere in the middle.
And that hurts in its own way.
42
Home
Lily-Anne
It’s good to be home—even if it’s technically only Brandon’s home, not mine. The cottage hallway smells of tomato and basil, the distinct smell transporting me back to Mum’s kitchen in Sydney.
I’ve barely crossed the threshold, but I’m already looking forward to my bed. A week in hospital for post-surgery recovery has left me stiff, overslept, and foggy from painkillers. My foot is cocooned in a thick, heavy cast, my underarms sore from the crutches.
I have no idea how I’ll manage the stairs. I suppose someone will have to carry me. I try not to think about it as I hobble through to the kitchen, where a pot simmers on the stove.
“Ta-da! Spaghetti bolognese—our favourite,” Ellenor announces, fussing over me almost as much as Mum as they help me settle for dinner, propping my leg on a chair, pouring water in my glass as if they know I’m thirsty.
They’re all trying so hard to help me. I attempt a smile, grateful and uncomfortable in equal measure.
The table hums with easy chatter—Mum telling stories, Ellenor interrupting with outrageous commentary, Brandon offering the occasional low-voiced remark that makes them laugh. The sound should be comforting—and it is, in a way. I’m just too drained to contribute more than a nod, and I let their voices drift around me like background music.
Brandon stands to clear the plates. As he passes behind my chair, his hand settles briefly on my shoulder—a warm weight that anchors me when I feel like floating away. His fingers linger, then they slip away, and I lean back into the ghost of his touch, wishing he hadn’t let go.
After dinner, as Mum and Ellenor wash the dishes, Brandon pauses inthe middle of wiping down the table and drags up a chair beside me.
“Lily…I brought you something from your house. I didn’t want to overwhelm you earlier, but I think you should see it.”
I look at him, confused.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small silver flash drive. “This is a backup of your dad’s old phone. The Nokia. Your mother and I found it in his office. There were a few videos on there—one in particular…”
