She tipped her head toward the box. “Moving more stuff in?”
“Oh yeah. You know. Sorting through it to see what we should keep. Want to sit down?” He gestured to the now-empty cargo area of his vehicle.
“I should probably get back . . .”
“Wow, you truly suck at procrastinating.”
She laughed and gave in, handing him her cup so she could scoot herself up. He settled a few inches away.
“Thanks again for dinner,” he said.
“It was really nice.” She meant it. She’d been thinking about him, she’d even searched for him online that morning.
His byline photo had looked so serious she’d immediately laughed. He hadn’t looked that solemn even when she’d told him she couldn’t help him with the gate. When she scrolled through a few pages, she noticed he mostly covered local politics, though he’d written several pieces on health and community. He’d also covered a lot of the protests and counterprotests of the past few years, and she cringed as she read about him needing stitches on his scalp after a bottle was thrown.
Alex was older than she’d thought, which she often found with men. No childbearing years to spring back from, and once they got wrinkles, they could grow a beard. She’d pegged him in his midthirties, but he was forty-one. That boyish grin did a lot for him.
Now she worried he’d searched for her too. After all, he was a reporter.
She’d returned to her maiden name, but how hard would it be to see past that? Though Brown was a common surname. She’d stumbled into good camouflage, though she’d really meant it as a public declaration of her rejection of Jones.
“How’s school going?” he asked.
Lily groaned. “My final is this week. I can’t wait to be done. Two more classes and I’ll have my degree.”
He tilted his head to watch her, a half smile lifting up one corner of his mouth.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. You just look very happy when you say that. Proud.”
Her face heated with self-consciousness. “Yeah, I guess I am proud.”
“You should be. I certainly didn’t work full time and raise a kid while I was in school, so I’m impressed. It’s a big deal.”
Jesus, he was sweet. “Thanks.” She felt a blush heat her cheeks, but the rest of her body prickled with a more complicated tension. Pleasure at his attention, and a kind of animal impulse to run and hide.
“Are you wrapping up here?” she asked, gesturing toward one of the boxes.
“No, still slowly going through things, taking my time. I don’t want to get rid of anything important, so I work here for a while, then review a few things with my uncle. We always wind up talking, so it’s slower than it should be. What are you up to today?”
“Just chores. I’m hoping to talk Everett into going out later for ice cream. That would have been a given a few years ago, but I guess I’m not cool anymore.”
“That means you’re a good mom, though, right?”
She laughed at that.
“I’m serious!” he protested. “All the parents I thought were cool at that age . . . Now that I look back? Yikes! They were all badly aging adolescents.”
She nodded. “So you’re saying I should cancel that freestyle rap class I signed up for?”
“No, you should definitely do that and send me a link to a livestream.”
Lily nearly spit out the last of her coffee at that. She was disappointed to realize she’d finished her cup, but it felt like a signal that it was time to retreat. He had work to do, and she . . . well, she couldn’t keep nurturing this crush.
“I’d better get back,” she said.
“Oh. Got it. I’m going to be back and forth all day. I could bring some lunch later?”
Lily cleared her throat. She glanced down at the fingers he’d wrapped around his coffee mug, and they just looked . . . nice. How in the world could fingers holding a cup somehow be attractive? “Sure,” her mouth said before her brain could stop it. “Yeah.”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and Lily reached for it in desperation, so she wouldn’t say more or, worse, feel more. It was a text from Zoey.
Call me?
“Oh, I need to get this. Sorry. I’ll grab your mug later?”
“Sure! I’ll text you about lunch.”
She hurried away without even saying goodbye, afraid he’d see all her anxiety bubbling up when she couldn’t explain it to him. It was just lunch, and only a severely damaged person would be so nervous about it. She was definitely severely damaged, but she preferred to keep that to herself.
Lily hit the CALL button and walked quickly away. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hi, everything going good there?”
“Things are good, yes.” She put extra emphasis on good, hoping Zoey would persuade her to spill the beans about lunch. But her smile faded at her friend’s next words.
“You said I should call you if I need you, but . . .”
Shit. She hadn’t really meant that. She’d only been trying to be brave and bold and strong. But she didn’t feel like any of those things in the face of this unspoken question.
Feet slowing, she murmured a wordless “Mm,” because she couldn’t say yes this time. She couldn’t do it again with everything swirling so madly around her. Gretchen would be back tomorrow, and—
“I won’t ask you to shelter anyone again, but . . . it’s Connie.”
That brought her to a complete standstill. “Connie?” she whispered.
“You let her have that unit in your name three months ago?”
“Yes, I remember.” Of course she remembered. Lily was granted the right to one small storage unit as part of her compensation, but she’d never used it. Zoey had come to her and asked if there was anything she could do for Connie. Connie needed a place to keep furniture she’d acquired from a woman whose house she cleaned. She’d need something to start a new life for her and her son when she finally escaped.
Connie, who’d barely said a word when she arrived, had looked nearly sixty, gray and sunken in on herself. She’d later discovered the woman was only forty-five. Lily had offered the unit for free.
“Is she okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Her father-in-law had a heart attack, so her husband just left for the hospital in Kansas City. He’ll be gone until at least tomorrow morning, hopefully much longer. This is her chance to leave.”
She could do this. This was easy. “Of course. I’m here now; I can let her in anytime.”
“Is tonight okay? Her friend is driving in from Wichita to get her. She has a big van to help, but she won’t be here until eight thirty tonight, maybe nine. I know it will be after hours, but can you do that? I’ll drop Connie off, her friend will pick her up. The end.”
Lily said nothing for a moment, turning over all her fears about Gretchen and Mendelson and everything else.
“Lily?”
“Yes,” she blurted. “I can do that.”
“Thank you! Thank you, Lil. I’ll drop her and her son off at eight thirty on the dot.”
“Her son?” Lily glanced around, suddenly worried she wasn’t alone. Her senses sharpened, and the drone of a nearby frog sounded like an alarm.
“She has a five-year-old.”
Five. Almost the same age Everett had been when their lives imploded. Lily suddenly felt sick. Sick at the risk, but also at the deep blow of her compulsion to help this little boy. Lily hadn’t been running for her life with Everett, but she’d still felt so terrified, so overwhelmed, so hopeless. What must Connie be feeling?
“Okay,” Lily murmured. “Eight thirty.”
“I’ll see you then. Thank you!”
She hung up and forced herself to move back toward the office. This wasn’t bad. It wasn’t illegal. But if Mendelson was pushing her this hard over a grown woman who’d walked away, what might he do about a five-year-old child taken by his mother?
She hoped to God she wouldn’t find out.
CHAPTER 19
Everett couldn’t stop smiling. His mom had left the apartment again at noon, saying she’d be back in half an hour, which meant he could log on to Discord without worrying she might be over his shoulder. He’d been checking on and off all morning, and now he crossed his fingers for luck as the messages loaded.