She sighs in the relative silence as we drive, smiling softly to herself.
“Something funny?” I ask.
“Not funny, just good. Today felt like stepping back into a memory. The water fight, the fireworks.” She smiles brighter even as her eyes lose their focus. “It was the first day since my dad died that it didn’t hurt to think about him.”
I don’t answer right away. Our parents, our losses—they’re not the same.
“You don’t mind that we missed an entire day of researching?” I ask.
From the corner of my eye, I see Lili turn. “I didn’t even think about that.” There’s a hint of surprise in her voice, as though the realization just struck her. She checks her phone.
“Any word on your sister?”
Her voice sounds heavier now. “Goldie wasn’t up for going outside to see the fireworks. My mom’s hoping she’ll fall asleep before they run out ofAvengersmovies to watch.”
“Maybe you can bring her back next year,” I offer, not sure where the words come from.
Lili lets out a humorless laugh. “My mom was pretty adamantthat this is a one-time thing. That’s why I’ve been pushing so hard on the Kezia stuff. I don’t get another shot here.”
I slow the truck to a stop, pulling back on the handbrake, an impulse rising that I probably shouldn’t act on. “It’s not that late. We could still get some work done if you want.”
Her voice comes out quiet, hopeful. “Really?”
Then I remember. “No wait, the museum is closed.”
“Don’t you have keys?”
“Normally, but Tate is opening tomorrow, so I gave them to him.”
She leans back against her seat, visibly deflated.
“We could just work here.” The words slip out before I can catch them. “Like that night when we were working on the tour speech?”
“Did you show it to your dad yet?”
I shake my head. “I’m still going over a few things.”
She gives me an exasperated look but doesn’t push. Instead, she seems to consider my offer. “I guess there’s no reason we couldn’t work for a little while.”
My pulse spikes, a mix of nerves and... relief. Quickly followed by the sinking realization that this is the opposite of what I should be doing. “No, wait. I forgot we left everything at the museum.”
She rummages through the bag that she brings everywhere and doesn’t see how my whole body tenses. If I’d just kissed my girlfriend goodnight, gone home, and gone to bed, I wouldn’t be watching Lili’s hair fall in front of her face, resisting the urge to brush it back.
I don’t want this—these thoughts, this constant awareness, the growing desire to be around her and know what she’s thinking.
The only thing keeping me from driving straight to her house is the knowledge that this is all on me. Lili isn’t stealing glances at me or wondering what I think about a song or a book. To her, I’m a research partner, maybe a friend, and her new friend’s boyfriend.
And I am that. Eryn’s boyfriend.
I am.
“Should we go to our tree?” she asks, straightening with her tablet and notebook. “You know, where we worked on the tour speech?”
My hand grips on the steering wheel. “I hardly think we can lay claim to it after one night.”
“Well, I don’t remember the street names.”
I do. It’s disturbingly easy to navigate there, almost as if I’ve been waiting for a reason to go back.
