“You’re good with kids,” I observe, pressing the down button.
He shrugs. “They’re easier than adults. They just tell you what they think.”
“True,” I agree, reminded of Penny’s unfiltered observations that leave me mortified in public. “You made her day with those flowers.”
“It was the least I could do,” he says as we step into the elevator. “She was so brave at the scene. Kept talking to me about art and school even though she was terrified.”
The floor numbers count down with rhythmic beeps, too fast, too slow? I don’t even know. When we reach the lobby and head toward the main exit, Josh turns to me.
“Since we’re here, should we remove my stitches?”
I glance at my watch. I have time to fix him now. It would take ten minutes, tops. The logical, efficient thing would be to do it at the hospital where I have the supplies and proper lighting.
But then I’d have no reason to see him later.
“I need to go pick up Penny now,” I lie. “But you can stop by our place later if you want, and I’ll take care of it then.”
He nods, not questioning my excuse. “Sounds good. Six thirty work for you?”
“Perfect,” I say, and hope my face doesn’t betray how eagerly I’m looking forward to it.
20
JOSH
I ring Lily’s doorbell, pulse kicking before my finger even leaves the button. Penny’s laughter floats outside, bright and uncomplicated—the opposite of the knot twisting low in my stomach. When the door swings open, Lily steps forward with her hair still damp from a recent shower, combed back like she’s rushed to get ready without wanting me to notice. But I notice. The hair and the shine of gloss on her lips—I notice that, too.
Why would she wear lipstick for an evening at home? She’s not going out, is she? Not with Penny here and on a school night. My brain stutters. Could it be for me? The possibility surges through my bloodstream, a reckless hope I know better than to indulge, but damn if it doesn’t feel good. A huge, idiotic grin stretches across my face.
“What?” she asks self-consciously.
“Nothing,” I reply, still grinning like a fool.
Lily rolls her eyes and waves me inside, gesturing toward the living room. “Come on in.”
The apartment smells of roasted meat with a lemony zest. My mouth waters. Penny is sprawled on the carpet surrounded by an explosion of paper and colored pencils. She pops her head up when she sees me.
“Hi, Josh!” She waves. “Did you come to fix something else?”
“Nope. Your mom’s fixing me this time.” I hold up my bandaged arm. “Getting my stitches out.”
Penny’s eyes widen. “Cool! Can I watch?”
“Are you sure it won’t bother you, honey?” Lily asks, settling onto the couch.
“No, Mom, I’m strong.”
“We’re stronger when we recognize our limits, Penny. Nothing to be ashamed of. Even for adults. The smart ones admit a needle scares them. The others end up flat on the floor.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Penny declares. Then she turns to me. “How about you, Josh, does blood scare you?”
I sit beside Lily, holding out my arm. “No.”
“That’s because you’re a firefighter,” Penny says, plopping down cross-legged on the coffee table across from us. “My dad was one, too. He died in a fire.”
Tension spikes. We have never discussed my job with Penny; I don’t even know how she knows. Agatha, maybe? But suddenly, what I do for a living takes up all the space in the room.
No one says anything. I search Lily’s face, but she doesn’t look back.
