Lily’s brow furrows in her overthinking face. “I don’t want to lie to her. She’s perceptive, she’ll figure out something’s changed between us.”
“We won’t lie,” I promise. “But maybe we start with ‘Josh is going to be around more’ before jumping to ‘Josh is moving in.’”
Lily nods, her eyes searching mine. “Are you sure about all this? About the academy job? About us?”
I slide my hand to the back of her neck, drawing her closer until our foreheads touch. “I submitted my transfer paperwork on Friday, Lily. It’s done.”
Her eyes widen. “You did? Before talking to me? What if I’d said no?”
I smirk down at her. “You yelling at me that you loved me gave me a confidence boost and I was happy with the decision either way.” I look deep into her eyes, needing her to understand. “I’m not sacrificing my dreams, Lily. I’m choosing a different path to the same destination. And after what happened in that fire…” I swallow past the memory of being trapped under that shelter. “Being an instructor feels right. Using what I learned to make sure others come home safe.”
Relief softens her features, and she leans in to brush her lips against mine. “I’m proud of you,” she whispers. “And selfishly very, very happy.”
I slide one hand down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. “I’m happy too,” I murmur against her mouth.
We lose ourselves in each other again, trading lazy kisses and gentle touches. It’s still new enough that each caress feels like a revelation, each sigh a gift. But the familiarity growing between us is turning my chest too small to contain all this joy that is bursting out.
Afterward, I trace the inked lines of Daniel’s name over her heart, feeling the slight rise of the letters against my fingertips. “Can I tell you something that’s going to sound incredibly silly and make you think I’m totally nuts?”
“You can tell me anything. Always.”
“I think… well, I can’t shake this idea from my head that Daniel sent me to you and Penny.”
Her reaction is not what I expect. Lily covers her face with both hands, shaking her head on the pillow.
“Hey, hey,” I murmur, gently prying her hands away from her face. “I’m sorry. That was—I shouldn’t have said?—”
“No,” she chokes out. “No, that’s not—” She gulps in air until she’s calm enough to speak. “It’s because I feel the same way.”
My heart kicks against my ribs. “You do?”
She nods, wiping at fresh tears with the back of her hand. “What made you believe that?”
“Do you remember that first weekend at the Santa Monica pier, when I told you it took three rejections before my transfer request to California was accepted?”
She nods again, her eyes never leaving mine.
“What I didn’t tell you at the time was that I had given up. After the third rejection, I’d decided to stay in Delaware. I was looking at other stations nearby, ready to accept that California wasn’t in the cards for me.” I swallow, remembering the resignation I’d felt. “Then one day, I was at home I don’t remember doing what when the remote fell from a stable spot on the coffee table.”
“So?” She frowns.
“I know how it sounds. But I swear, there was no earthquake, no wind coming in from open windows. The remote tumbled to the floor on its own, switching on the TV to a breaking news report of wildfires in California, of how LAFD was understaffed and overwhelmed.” I shake my head, still a little disbelieving even as I recount it. “It made me want to apply again, one last time. So I did. And that’s when I got accepted.”
Lily stares at me, her eyes wide and glistening.
“And it can be a stupid coincidence, a trick of gravity, vibrations from a heavy truck passing down the road outside my house. But I don’t see it that way. To me, it was a sign. And now, I can’t help thinking it came from Daniel. What was it for you?”
She shifts, pulling the sheets up around us, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. “I went to see Daniel at the cemetery after our big fight. I’d been avoiding it for a while because—well, because of us. Because I felt guilty about having feelings for you.”
I nod, giving her the space to continue.
“There were all these signs.” Her voice takes on a sense of wonder. “The air smelled like him, that weird winter forest smell he always had, even in summer. And this strange wind was blowing, cool when it should’ve been hot. And then—” She laughs, a little embarrassed. “I found a penny at the base of his tomb. It wasn’t there the other times. I don’t know who could’ve dropped it. Pennies were our thing; I told you at the camp?—”
“Yeah, I remember.”
She turns, opening the nightstand drawer, and shows me the little coin. “And it seemed like a sign from him, a message.”
My throat tightens.
