Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

LILY

M addie sits cross-legged on the beanbag chair, her fingers drumming on her knee. She's wearing denim shorts and a loose-fitting tank top that shows her athletic build. Her hair is a bright blond, styled perfectly in ringlets around her shoulders, a by-product of her job at the salon.

"I seriously think he was asking you on a date," she says.

I roll my eyes. "He just asked to grab a bite."

"Yeah, and then you replied, Sure, let's meet for work, and he hasn't responded in hours. He was probably over the moon, excited about finally meeting the lady of his dreams. Now he's in his own personal Shakespearean tragedy, probably talking to a skull, wondering why you rejected him."

"Ha ha," I grunt sarcastically. "I seriously doubt it, Maddie."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Before I can answer, Mom pops her head into my bedroom door. Seeing Landon has reminded me of what she was like ten years ago, beanpole-thin with her hair falling out from self-abuse and stress. Now, she's back to her natural full figure and round, happy face.

"You girls want some cocoa?"

"Sure, Mom," I say with a smile. "Thanks."

Maddie gives me a look when Mom leaves us. "I take it you haven't told her?"

I shrug. "What would the point be?"

Maddie shrugs. "I guess she might be interested. It's a pretty cool coincidence. Did you tell Landon that he was the one who inspired you to want to go into social work?"

"Yeah, I did, but it came out super dorky. I'm pretty sure it made him uncomfortable. Do you think it was a mistake?"

"Well, if you're not happy with how it came out, you've got another chance to discuss it …"

"I don't know," I mutter. "He hasn't texted back."

"Because he's heartbroken and offended."

"Please, Maddie."

She frowns at the change in my tone. "I'm sorry. I went too far."

"It's fine," I mutter. "It's just …"

What if she's right and, now that I've rejected him once, he wants nothing to do with me? Yet if that's the case, I shouldn't care. If he's that shallow, it should mean nothing to me anyway.

"He was my hero," I whisper. "For years in high school, when I was busting my ass to win that scholarship, I'd often think about him. In college, when I thought I would miss a deadline, I'd remember how in control he seemed when Mom had her meltdowns with him and was screaming at him, telling him he had to save her family. He was just ice-cold and calm."

"He sounds like a good man," Maddie says.

"He spends his life helping others for free. He's probably the best man I've ever met."

"Sounds like hus—Sorry."

Sounds like husband material , she was about to say, clearly, but stops herself. I grin and playfully flip her the bird. We're so close. We can do stuff like this, and know we could only ever mean it as a joke; she flips me off right back.

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "See, Maddie? This is why I love you so much. No matter what, you can always make me laugh."

"That's all you," she replies. "If I had your job, I don't think I'd ever smile again."

"This is what I'm always arguing with Carter about. He thinks the misery of our work has to make us miserable. I think the more depressing one part of your life is, the harder you have to work to make the rest bright and happy. It should be a break , but he tortures himself with it."

"He's been doing it for almost twenty years," Maddie says softly.

The unspoken message is clear. Maybe, once that much time has passed with me on the job, I'll be just as bad as him. I shrug, picking up my cell phone and checking it—still nothing. Maybe Maddie was right. Perhaps he meant this to be a date.

Or, more likely, he's busy and hasn't had time to respond yet.

That night, sleep comes far slower than it usually does. I roll from one side of the bed to the other, trying to resist the urge to check my cell phone. The whole reason I put my cell on silent was so that I wouldn't have to think about my unanswered message.

When I fail and recheck it—probably for the tenth time—and see no messages, I roll over, pushing my face into the pillow. My memory is alive with the fallout when I was a kid. I remember Mom rushing me to the closet, talking with more energy than I was accustomed to.

"I haven't been the best mom, but I will get us safe, baby. I'm going to get us away from him. I've found somebody who can help …"

I remember sitting in my bedroom with the door cracked as Landon spoke to Dad calmly and fearlessly, a manner people rarely used with him. I remember watching Landon in awe, waiting for him to cringe away from Dad like everybody did, but Landon just watched him steadily.

Then my memory judders ahead to the more recent. I see Landon standing in his stylish suit earlier today. I remember the humanity in his eyes and how his arms bulged in his jacket, his powerful form like he was getting ready to burst from his clothes.

In my mind, he reaches out and brushes his hand down my arm. Then he takes my hand and pulls me toward him, his body trembling all over as he guides me right against him. He pushes his body against mine, letting me feel the solid outline of his manhood against my belly.

"You're so fucking perfect," I imagine him growling in that mature, husky voice. "You're so sexy, so beautiful …"

He's even more handsome now than he was ten years ago. He didn't have flecks of silver in his hair then. He didn't have an aura of pure command and control.

Now, I imagine him lifting me up. We're not outside anymore. The fantasy has taken us into a bright bedroom, the sunlight kissing off the silk sheets. He lays me on the sheets and leans down atop me, letting me drag my hands over his muscled back as I dig my fingernails into him.

"Forget about the rest of the world," he says in my mind. "Forget about the past. Forget about how awkward this could be. Let's live in the moment. Me. You. This heat. I know you feel it, too."

I slide my hand between my legs, unable to ignore that hot feeling any longer. My clit aches as I stroke my fingers up and down and around, letting the sizzling the pleasure fuel the images dancing in my mind. I imagine Landon sliding his hand up my leg, staring down at me with that fixed expression, completely consumed with this moment, with me .

"You're so, so perfect …"

Something about imagining him calling me perfect heats me even more. Maybe it's the fact I can imagine him talking about my body, yes, the lust I inspire in him, but also me , as a person, the path I've chosen. He's my hero, my knight in shining armor.

My breath comes quicker as I rub my clit with more urgency. In the fantasy, he's slipping his finger inside, groaning when he realizes how wet I am. I twitch my hips in time with the motion of his hand, chasing the pleasure, chasing the release. He growls like he can sense how close I'm getting.

"Come, Lily," I imagine his snarling. "Come for me. Come hard. Come, come, come …"

I bite down on the pillow, squeezing my legs together as the orgasm pulses. My head feels light as it thrums through me. I roll onto my back, gasping as I stare up at the ceiling, sure I can see stars glimmering across my vision—stars of lust, stars of hope, stars of impossibility.

Maybe Maddie thinks I'm silly for answering his text with something about work, but it makes the most sense. Even if my wild fantasy of Landon wanting me was true, would it be good for me? Would it be the best thing for my career? Would it be the best thing for my life?

Dad was almost twenty years older than Mom, and look how that worked out.

"I didn't stand a chance," she told me once. "He was so much more experienced. He'd seen so much more of the world …"

After going into the bathroom to clean myself up, I promise to keep Mom's words, the importance of staying focused on my career, and the fact there are so many years between us at the forefront of my mind.