“You should go shower,” Ryke advises.
“In a second,” I say.
“Lo.”
He’s not going to let up. Fine. “You need to take one too,” I say with an edged voice. “You reek.”
“I’m right behind you.”
I pass Connor into the house, kicking off my shoes. And then I run up the stairs, two at a time, while Ryke disappears to the basement. As soon as I slip into my bedroom, Lily pops up from the comforter where she’d been napping.
“Lo?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, aiming right for the bathroom. I disappear inside and start removing the rest of my wet clothes. I’m not surprised when Lily follows me, my black V-neck tee covering her thighs. “I have to take a shower.” I sound more detached than usual.
She clutches onto the door frame as she watches me strip. “What happened?” Her nose crinkles. “Is that…？”
“Bourbon,” I say under my breath.
She catches the word. “What?” Her voice spikes.
After stepping out of my boxer-briefs, I enter the glass shower. “The teenagers used the water bucket trick. I’m just going to wash off and then head to lunch.” I don’t wait for her to respond. I switch on the faucet, the hot water pouring down on me. My muscles tense, and I rest a hand on the tiled wall, trying to relax before I grab the soap.
The juvenile pranks, I understand. The malicious intent, I get even more. That’s me. All of those teenagers are me. And I should call the cops like my father would, but how can I? It’s a waste. I’ll make it worse with their parents, enrage them more, ruin their lives before they’ve even started. This feels like my final test. To be a better person than I was.
I keep waiting for my self-preservation to kick in. To say: fuck you all. To tap into the selfish, dark parts of my soul.
But I give a shit. I think about that young guy I held the night of the paintball shooting. I think about my son and Lily. Her sisters. And I can’t find an answer that solves everything—the happy ending that I’ve been fighting for.
It’s there. I know it’s there. Just one last shadowed road. One more bout of pain. I can take it.
“Lo?” Lily peeks through a crack in the glass door. “Can I come in?”
I give her a stiff nod, and she slips into the shower, still half-clothed. The water rains on her small frame, suctioning the black tee to her body. I watch her snatch a washcloth and bar of soap. I’m caught in a tornado of memories. Of Lily trying to drag me into the shower while I was hungover.
My lips begin to rise. Back then, I could wash myself fine, but I liked how Lily tried to help me. Her being that close meant more to me than she ever knew. She was my best friend—is my best friend.
After she lathers the washcloth, she gently begins scrubbing my abs. And then her eyes flit up to mine for the first time. She pauses. “What’s so funny?” My smile is full-blown. From cheek to cheek.
“I’ve always loved you, you know,” I breathe.
I can’t stop staring at her. She’s been through every piece of my life with me. And it’s overwhelming and incomprehensible. The universe that I want to be in is the one where Lily walks through that shower door. Every time.
She opens her mouth to speak, but emotions pummel her first. She wipes her eyes, which is silly and adorable since beads of water roll down her cheeks from the showerhead. “I have something in my eye,” she mumbles.
“Sure,” I whisper. Then I draw her closer, kiss right outside her lips, and just hold her for a second. It’s like embracing the happiest parts of yourself. I can’t quite explain what it feels like—but I’m certain it’s somewhere near heaven.
{ 45 }
LILY CALLOWAY
After the shower, Lo changes into clean clothes, and I take the opportunity to scoop his bourbon-soaked jeans and toss them into a trash bag. I want to eliminate any temptations, and I worry the pungent smell of alcohol will trigger his cravings.
I clip the baby monitor to the band of my leggings and check that it’s working properly （a constant habit） as I head downstairs. Daisy and Rose are huddled around the kitchen stove, whispering.
I step on the metal foot of the trashcan. “What are you two gossiping about?” I take an extra-long minute to shove my bag in the overflowing trash, smashing boxes of empty cereal.
Rose straightens up, her hands perched on her hips. “Retaliation number two.”
Daisy twists her hemp bracelet, a Ziff bottle under her arm. “They can’t get away with what they did.”