“I imagine as riveting as with your laundry,” he replies with a grin. “Bet I’ll find a portal to Narnia before I’m done.”
I chuckle loudly. “Just make sure it’s one-way. I’m not ready for talking beavers building a dam in our pool.” I finish the wrap, dump the trash in the bin, and gesture to Josh’s arm. “You’re free to go hunt for the lion.”
He cracks a smile and says he’ll let me know if he’s attacked by centaurs. We move toward the door simultaneously and have to do that awkward “after you, no, after you” shuffle before I escape into the hallway.
Dorian and Josie are still in Penny’s room reading to her, so Josh and I are alone. I walk him to the front door, feeling like this is the end of a date, which is absurd. It was nothing—a bandage change. In my bathroom. With my entire family in the next room.
Josh stands by the door, his keys in hand. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
He stalls, not leaving yet, making me wonder what would happen if I closed the gap. Let myself be held, or kissed, or whatever people do when they want things and are not afraid to ask.
He smiles at me, the porch light turning his hair gold. “Night.”
The goodbye hangs heavier than it should, and I’m not sure which of us is more aware of what it doesn’t say.
“Night,” I answer with the same word, thinking it too small for the pressure straining behind my ribs.
He steps out. I don’t watch him go. I close the door and lean against it.
I want more, and I don’t. I want to run away, and I want to stay. But most of all, I want to believe in a version of this story where I won’t break myself open and fall apart if I let someone in.
14
LILY
I listen to Josh’s footsteps fade down the exterior stairwell, my emotions tumbling like pennies in a dryer. Relief, disappointment, and a weird fizziness all getting washed up together in my belly.
That could have gone worse. At least my family didn’t traumatize him. But I’m going to need industrial-grade deflection skills to survive Josie’s questions.
To keep myself busy, I unpack Penny’s overnight bag, dropping most of the contents in the laundry basket.
Anxiety jolts through me at the sound of my daughter’s bedroom door opening. I slam the lid over the basket and plaster on what I hope is a casual smile as I exit the laundry room.
Josie and Dorian are in the hallway, wearing matching expressions—eyebrows raised, lips curved into knowing smiles that make me want to dive out the window.
“Penny asleep?” I ask, aiming for nonchalance but hitting somewhere closer to “guilty teenager caught sneaking in past curfew.”
“Yep,” Josie says. “Dorian’s voice did the trick.”
“It’s my superpower,” Dorian quips. “I can bore anyone to sleep.”
“Yeah, that’s what your vocals are famous for.” I laugh, grateful for the momentary diversion. “Thanks for putting her down. I’ll go check on her.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Josie blocks my path, arms crossed. “She’s fine. But you, missy, have some tell-all to do.”
“About what?” I try to sidestep her, but she mirrors my movements.
“About tall and neighborly. The one with the biceps and the puppy dog eyes who looks at you like you hung the moon.”
“He doesn’t look at me like that,” I protest, heat creeping up my neck. “And there’s nothing to tell. He’s my neighbor. He fixed my sink. End of story.”
I flee in the other direction toward the living room, desperate to escape this line of questioning.
Dorian gives me a sympathetic look as I pass, but makes no move to rescue me from my sister’s inquisition.Traitor.
“You’re not getting out of this one,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’ll make coffee.”
