Midnight Lily(49)

She laughed softly. "Is that a job or an undergarment?"

"Ha ha." But I gave her a genuine chuckle.

"So seriously, what does an athletic trainer do?"

I shrugged. "I'm basically the team's favorite employee. I tape ankles, rub sore muscles, and rehab injuries. In a nutshell."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you work for, like, a sports team?"

I nodded. "I work for the 49ers."

Her eyes widened. "No shit? That's so cool." The waitress brought our coffee and Jenna dumped a couple packets of sugar into hers before saying, "I'm a fan. What happened with Holden Scott last year was so tragic. Did you know him well?"

"Yeah," I said, and cleared my throat when it came out croaky. "Yeah."

Apparently there was something in my face that gave Jenna pause because she took a sip of her coffee and then said, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said. It so wasn't okay. I missed him. But I hated making others uncomfortable. "So what do you do, Jenna?"

She smiled, obviously relieved to change the subject. "I'm in marketing." She told me a little bit about her job and the company she worked for. I mostly listened, although my mind wandered just a little. There are all these little milestones after you lose someone. Mostly, they pass by in ways that others don't even recognize, but they still continued to jolt me. I wondered how long that would last? Those few moments after Holden's name was mentioned when I had to work to regain my equilibrium, those few moments when I had to focus on not sinking to my knees.

Be proud of those victories, Dr. Katz had said. For that's what they are, small personal triumphs of strength. And they matter.

I tuned back in to Jenna. "Anyway," she sighed, "I like it. I like the job, and the travel it involves."

"How often do you travel?"

"At least once a week. I'm actually leaving for Chicago tomorrow. Part of the reason I offered to be the DD." She smiled, tilting her head. She was flirting with me, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. She was pretty, definitely pretty. But would I ever feel that intense rush of feeling for another woman that I'd felt for Lily? I guessed not, especially if that had been purely in my own mind. It would be impossible to recreate a fantasy, I supposed. Maybe a reality check was exactly what I needed. Maybe spending time with someone like Jenna—someone inarguably real—was just what the doctor ordered, so to speak.

We drank our coffee and ate our donuts, not lacking for conversation, and it was pleasant. When Jenna's friends texted her, I walked her back across the street and waited for them to exit the bar. I decided no one would miss me if I didn't go back inside and say goodbye. They'd all be completely wasted by this point. They could call a limo. Jenna looked at me hopefully. "This turned into a far better night than I thought it would be," she said. Her expression moved from hopeful to expectant. The look that said I like you. I want to know more. Lily had looked at me like that. Deep breath, Ryan. Lily is . . . gone. And spending time with Jenna had felt . . . easy.

"For me, too." I smiled. "Can I call you, Jenna?"

She released a breath. "Absolutely. Here, let me give you my card." She pulled a white business card out of her small purse and handed it to me, biting her lower lip. "I really look forward to hearing from you, Ryan."

I smiled. "Good night." When I'd walked to the corner, I turned back once. Jenna was still standing on the sidewalk, watching me leave. I held up my hand and waved, and she waved back.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Lily



Are you a dream? Or maybe a . . . ghost?

Maybe. Yes, I think I might be.

I don't feel like my life is . . . real.

The words skittered through my mind as I stood staring at the small portion of the Golden Gate Bridge I could see from the window of the hospital. My eyes moved to a woman walking by, pushing a baby in a stroller on one of the garden paths below. Somewhere nearby, a car horn blared. Did I feel like my life was real now? Maybe. At least more so than it had been. Here, I could people watch, interact with others, walk in the grass . . . even go out now that I'd been given more freedom.

"You've gone to see him again, haven't you?"

I turned my head from the window to glance at my grandmother as she entered the room. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"He didn't see me," I murmured.

My grandmother sighed. "Lily, darling. He's doing well now. It's time to let him go. In fact, we need to talk about returning to Colorado. My lease on the house in Marin is up next month."

I turned from the window and moved quickly to the small sofa where she'd just sat down. I took her hands in mine. Ignoring her comment about the lease, I said, "That's just it, Grandma; he's doing so well. He's back at work. He seems to be . . . himself again."

My grandmother gave a short laugh. "Himself? Lily, you don't even know who that is. You have no idea. And he has no idea who you are either."

I shook my head, denying her words. "That's not true. I know him. I know who he is in here." I pulled one hand away and used it to tap against my chest. He’s in my heart. For some reason, the vision of those hands—fingertips just barely brushing—that had been carved into the rock in Colorado raced through my mind. Grasping for each other in the dark. I'd felt him. I'd known him.