Midnight Lily(36)

I froze as she turned toward me, her face pale, arrested. Stricken. She looked from the magazine to me. "Holden Scott," she said softly, blinking at me. "This is . . . this is . . . you?" she asked. From the small amount of cover I could see, it was a Sports Illustrated. I didn't know which specific edition it was, but I'd been on the cover several times, it could be one of many. I nodded. She looked from the magazine cover back to me again. Her body was stiff, and she looked as if she was in shock.

"I know, I didn't tell you I'm a football player, or that I'm, well, very well known," I said, setting her drink on the coffee table. I ran my hand through my hair, as she eyed me. She blinked, looking confused, wary. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, stuffing my hands into my pockets. "I just . . . I just didn't want to be him," I nodded my head to the magazine, "out here, with you. You helped me remember that that's not who I am. And, God, it's been so painful." I frowned, clenching my eyes closed for a moment. "I guess I'm not making sense, but you've helped me. You've helped me so much, and I don’t even want to explain it all to you until I'm well again. Can you trust me?" I walked toward her. When I came to stand in front of her, her eyes moved slowly over my face as she chewed on her lip.

"Is that why you're here?" she asked. "To get well?" Her voice cracked on the last word, and she again, glanced at the magazine and back to me.

I nodded. "Yes. And I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to get well." She continued to stare at me, something working behind her eyes that I had no idea how to read. I stilled as I waited for her reaction. Finally, she reached out and tentatively took my hand in hers, looking down at the back of my hand as she ran a finger over each knuckle. I shivered at her touch. Her eyes met mine, that gorgeous violet gaze seeming so very grave.

"Yes, Boy Scout, I trust you. I want you to be well again."

My breath came out in a rush and relief flooded my chest. To have someone who had faith in me made my heart squeeze with gratitude. "This has to be our last night for a little bit. Just a week, hopefully. But I . . . I need to—"

She put her fingers to my lips. "I know. So let's make the most of the time we have, okay? I want to spend the night with you. Is that okay?"

"God, yes, of course. There's nothing I want more than that."

She took a deep, shuddery breath, seeming to compose herself. "Okay. Okay. So how about we go out on the deck?"

I smiled, feeling elated that she was going to stay. "I have s'mores," I said. "Up for roasting some marshmallows?"

She let out a breath and gave me the glimmer of a smile. "Definitely."

I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the bag of marshmallows, a few bars of chocolate, and a box of graham crackers. We went out on the deck, and I pulled a couple chairs up to the fire pit. Lily was quiet as I lit the fire. When I looked over at her, she was gazing out to the forest where the sunset’s shafts of gold were streaming into the trees. In the woods, everything must have looked as if it were gilded.

I ran back in and got a plate and laid out the ingredients for the s'mores. Lily seemed to be deep in thought and I didn't interrupt. I was sure she was thinking about me being famous. Surely she hadn't expected that. I wondered if she thought it would impact her own life. I wanted it to, once I was better. The thought itself startled me, but not in a way that brought fear. Instead, in a way that brought . . . peace. It felt right. I wanted to take her out of these woods, to bring her home to my apartment . . . No, I didn't live there anymore. I massaged my temple. Back to the mansion I'd recently bought and hadn't even enjoyed. I wanted to bring her there, to learn her secrets, to take care of her, to make her mine.

Above us, the sky was turning a deep shade of indigo. The small fire crackled and jumped. "Do you want a blanket?" I asked.

Lily shook her head.

I felt nervous around her again, like I had the first few times we'd hung out. "I suppose you're going to mock my Boy Scout skills," I said, pointing to the small fire pit, the one I'd used matches to light. "Flint is generally my preferred method of fire lighting, of course, but it's scarce out here. The first rule of Boy Scouting is you have to make do with what you have." She laughed softly and raised her brows.

"Boy Scouting?"

"That's right."

"I thought the first rule of Boy Scouting was always be prepared."

"Right, but if you're not, figure it out anyway. Make it work. It's in the fine print. Sort of an amendment to the first rule."

"Ah, I see. Well you would know the rules of Boy Scouting better than I." She dragged her chair closer to mine, and I relaxed. Things seemed less awkward, less strained, than they had a few minutes before.

"I like two marshmallows on my s'more. How about you?"

She smiled over at me and nodded. I relaxed even more, my shoulders lowering. She stood up and grabbed the skewers sitting on the edge of the fire pit and stuck one marshmallow on the end of each, handing one to me. We sat in silence as the marshmallows sizzled and turned golden, the sweet, sugary smell rising in the air around us, mixing with the smoke from the fire. "Will you tell me about Ryan?" she asked softly.

I startled, glancing over at her. "Ryan?" I asked, my voice cracking.