“They went over the edge. The car fell into the ravine and exploded.” Her breath hitched. “The police told me…the impact killed them before the flames could. That they didn’t feel it.”
“Jesus,” I murmured.
“I’d just turned eighteen.” She looked up, her eyes haunted. “I was just old enough to be the one who had to go identify the bodies. Just old enough to be the one to sign papers, pay bills, and make decisions I wasn’t ready for.”
My jaw clenched.
“I didn’t have time to fall apart. There was an estate to settle, debts to pay off. I didn’t have much left afterward. I scraped together what I could, stashed it, and told myself I’d be okay. That I’d figure it out.”
“You did more than that,” I said, my voice low. “You survived and didn’t give up on life or your dreams.”
She gave me a sad, crooked smile. “Yeah. I’mscrappy.”
Her pain wrapped around me like barbed wire. But it was that fierce, steel-spined independence she wore like armor that fucking gutted me.
I couldn’t sit on the other side of the sectional anymore, couldn’t allow this distance between us. So, I stood and crossed over to her.
Her brows lifted in a silent question, but she didn’t move when I bent and slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back. I scooped her up gently and sat down with her in my lap.
She relaxed into me, and we sat in silence for a few heartbeats before she continued.
“I waited a couple of years. Saved. Planned. Then I came here—to Manhattan.”
She quietly rested a hand on my chest.
“Technically, you don’t deserve my whole story,” she said in that signature sarcasm that indicated she was becoming uncomfortable. “But I’ll give it to you anyway, because I’ve got nothing to hide. I’m not the one who holes up in a hacker cave full of secrets,” she added teasingly.
“Fair enough,” I said, pulling her closer against me and rubbing her back. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to share.”
She inhaled deeply. “All that to say, the reason I took Lyla’s name…it wasn’t just because I’m twenty and can’t legally work in half the places that actually pay rent money. It was because—”
She faltered, her hand sliding down my chest to the hem of my T-shirt. There, she twisted her fingers into the fabric. “It was because I wanted to seehername in lights.”
I went still.
“I thought…if I could make it, if I could get even close to Broadway…maybe it would be like giving her the future she didn’t get to have.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. I’d assumed she had practical reasons, like needing to be twenty-one to work in a club. Or maybe even that she had a touch of rebellion.
But this?
This was love, grief, and raw, aching devotion all rolled up into one.
She looked up at me. “You already knew about my age. About the fake ID, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“And?”
“And I’m glad you weren’t using it for some darker purpose.” I held her chin, not letting her look away. “You’re not running from anything. You’re honoring someone, and I think that’s fair.”
She blinked fast, fighting the tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t think it’s stupid?”
I shook my head slowly. “I think it’s the bravest fucking thing I’ve heard in a long time—to give your success, your hard work, to another person because you love them.”
Her breath stuttered as though my words had knocked something loose inside her.
