Without a Hitch(91)

“The song you changed my ringtone to. I nearly fell out of your bloody floating bed of doom.”

“You—you haven’t changed the ringtone yet? Wait! What are you doing in the hammock?” I sit up in bed, dragging a pillow to my chest. Clutching it to me, I hope it drowns out the wild beating that’s raging like a freight train in my ears.

“I wanted to be close to you. To something that you love, anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because the kindling was lit for me too, Till.”

My breath is harsh as it drags through my teeth, trying to fill my lungs to drown out the painful beat of my heart.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” I admit. The words feel like razor blades slicing through my lips.

“Me either. But I know I don’t like this, Tilly. Not at all. I had three more days with you.”

He’s still focused on our ending. There’s no talk of an extension. No talk of a future. Just absolute certainty that we end. My heart shatters all over again.

“I’m home. I’m safe,” I force out. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Tilly?”

“Good-bye, Lochlan.” I end the call and turn off my phone. That was a mistake, but he owns my heart, even if he can’t protect it. I’m weak to the pull of him in every way. Through blurry eyes, I notice Delaney leaning on my doorframe.

“Oh, sweetie.” She crosses the room with open arms and tears in her eyes. “What happened?”

“He doesn’t have room in his heart right now.” My body heaves as I cry into my beautiful friend’s shoulder.

“I found her,” Hadley calls from the doorway.

“You didn’t think you could hide forever, did you?” Delaney whispers.

“I couldn’t hide from Lochlan. He wouldn’t let me. He—he saw me. All the time. Everywhere.

He saw me.” An undignified wail escapes, and my words are a mucus-y, slobbery mess.

My bed shifts on either side, and arms wrap me in love. The sound of something scraping across the floor catches our attention, and we all lift our heads to find Mable dragging a chair and plastic bags full of food into the room.

“In my day, we sat in night dresses on the living room floor, but if y’all want to pile into a bed, to each their own. I’ll sit down here. I brought the tissues, the chocolate, the wine, and the food. We’re all set for a good long while, so you just go ahead and let it out. No judgment from me and Pussy.”

As if the cat already knows her name, Pussy waltzes into the room with an air of elegance.

Absurd and unconditional love surrounds me, and I finally break. I cry for not taking Lochlan’s words at face value. I cry for the pain that someone has caused him. I cry for being so stupid in love that I allowed my heart to get twisted up in such a short amount of time.

I cry as conversations carry on around me, and eventually I drift off into a fitful, heart-wrenching sleep filled with dreams of promises and happy ever afters that seem to avoid me like the plague.





C HAPTE R 35

LOCHLAN

I wake with a start and promptly fall on my ass. The floating bed of doom tried to kill me.

Again. There will be a mark on my hip after this fall for sure, but then I remember what woke me. That bloody song. Tilly’s text tone, because only Tilly would change the ring and text sounds to two different songs. I scramble to the grass beneath me, searching for my phone. When I finally find it, I stab at the screen, but there’s no text.

Lifting myself into a chair, I scroll through the messages, but there isn’t one. Fuck. Scrubbing the sleep from my eyes, I search my surroundings. I heard the song. I know I did. When continuing to scroll doesn’t turn up anything, I turn the phone over as if it will unlock all the mysteries. Eventually, I succumb to the realization that I’m hearing a phantom. The phantom of Tilly. She’s invading my days and nights now. With music.

My fingers twitch to the rhythm, and I watch them in shock. I hear the music. I feel the music. My thumb scrolls the screen again, this time searching for the settings. What is this song that’s playing on a loop in my head? Why am I still hearing it?

I hover over a thumbnail of a man I don’t recognize, and my phone comes to life. The name Thomas Rhett flashes, and the words “Things You Do For Love” scroll across my screen. Tapping the picture, the song begins to play, and my throat closes up at the realization that I not only know the words, but I feel them in my chest. My heart thrashes wildly in time with the happy beat.

What would I do? Not for love, but for Tilly? Is that the same thing? Does it matter if I’m doing it for Tilly or for love? Or for the love of Tilly? Can I be the man she needs? Bloody hell, I need a drink.

Images of our time together flood my vision. Tilly in the blue dress. Tilly in the purple dress. Tilly laughing with the security guard at the library. Tilly riding that bloody scooter. On the boat with absolutely no qualms about spearing the bait with an enormous hook. And Tilly in my bed. She’s everywhere. Branded on my life like she’ll never leave.

I tug on the ends of my hair until my scalp prickles. My ears ring like I’m learning how to hear for the first time, and I drop my phone to cover them, but it isn’t enough. It’s like Tilly’s the notes in the song of my life. I feel her viscerally as if she were here with every strum of the guitar.