Page 28 of When the Smoke Clears

“I like . . .” I clear my throat. “I’m going to bed.”

She smirks. “Were you going to say you like it?”

“Nope. I’m going to bed. That’s all I was going to say.” I brush past her toward my room.

When I let myself think of her as a grown woman instead of the underage girl I did all kinds of things to over the course of a week, I begin to like things about her such as her natural hair color. And that’s a terrible idea.

After five hours of sleep, I shower and head to the kitchen for food. When I get there, it’s a damn mess.

“Sorry, I’ll get everything cleaned up,” Liz says, jumping off the sofa and setting her book on the coffee table. “I make my own protein bars. Here, try one.” She offers me a square.

“I’m good, but thanks.” I wipe the trail of rolled oats off the counter and into the sink.

“You know what they say about artists.”

“What’s that?” I set a skillet on the stove while she flutters around me, cleaning up her mess.

“Creatives are messy.”

“I bet your daughter would disagree and dismiss that as a stereotype with no definitive data to support it.”

Liz laughs, scrubbing her dishes in the sink. “For someone who has spent very little time with Everleigh, you seem to know her well.”

“I know virtually nothing about her. We didn’t exactly start off with the truth.”

“She just wanted to fit in with her peers. Who can blame her for that?”

“Me. The guy who could have gone to jail. I can blame her for that.” I drop some butter into the hot skillet and then crack two eggs.

Liz sighs, rinsing her dishes and setting them in the strainer. “For her eighteenth birthday, I took her to a spa. Then we got her ears pierced. Lunch at a tearoom. Matching tattoos. And we ended the night with drinks and a show. And you know what? She sulked the whole time. Finally, I grabbed her shoulders and shook her, demanding she tell me what was ruining her big day, and that’s when she broke down and told me about you.”

I break the egg yolks with the spatula. “And what did she say?”

“I won’t betray her trust by telling you.”

I nod. Whatever.

“She said you were her soulmate.”

So much for not betraying her daughter.

Liz pulls a clean towel from the drawer and dries her dishes. “She said that week with you was the best week of her life. And when you two made love, she knew it was something that would last forever. Then you eviscerated her heart the next morning.” Liz sighs. “I don’t think she’ll ever be the same.”

I was so close. Maren and Fitz were ready to get Everleigh out of my life, like a magician with a sleight of hand. But no. I let her big tears send me back eleven years, reminiscing about that week. I let her make me feel guilty for breaking her heart.

Dammit! I’m being manipulated again.

“I think she’s doing just fine,” I say. “She has a solid reputation. A good staff. Family and friends who care about her. A bright future. Maybe not being the same is a good thing. Move on. Evolve. Grow. Spread your wings. Don’t you think?” I sneak a sideways glance at her.

Liz frowns. “Will, I’m talking about her heart. It will never be the same. You never forget your first love. It’s the most impressive one.”

I try to remember my first love. Nope. I’ve got nothing. Perhaps it’s a female thing. Or maybe I’ve never been in love.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” I say, retrieving a plate before pulling two slices of bread from the bag and sliding the eggs onto one piece.

Liz watches me as I add mayo and hot sauce. Her nose wrinkles when I take a bite. “You mean like that sandwich?” she asks.

“I noticed Everleigh is growing out her natural hair color,” I say, eyeing Liz’s amber hair. Honestly, I had no idea it wasn’t natural.