Lilah had not replied to that. The moment had not become what she had expected. In books, the hero sweeps the heroine up into his arms and they kiss. Lilah had never kissed anyone except Annie and George, and those were cheek kisses. Not the fiery kisses she’d read about. The kinds of kisses where the world tilts on its axis and the heroine feels like she’s going to faint. Lilah did not know what that really meant, but she wanted to find out.
What Tom said was, “Lilah, you are my friend. You’re a very pretty girl, no doubt about that. You are strong, and intelligent, and lovely, and you care about people. All of those are amazing qualities. If I was Benny’s age, I have no doubt that I would be one of a hundred boys who would fall head over heels for you. But that’s not going to happen, for a couple of very good reasons. First, I’m an adult and you’re a teenager, so there are all sorts of legal and moral issues right there, and I’m not the kind of guy who’s ever been interested in crossing those lines. Not now and not ever.”
Lilah said nothing to that. It was a stupid reason, and she was sure that she could kick it aside.
“Second, even though it’s a self-appointed role, I’m charged with protecting you. That means I have to advise you against making the wrong kinds of choices. If you came to me and told me that you were in love with someone else, some other adult, I’d give you the same advice: Don’t do it.”
She ignored that, too. There were no protectors when she lived alone in the Ruin, and she did not believe she needed anyone to make decisions for her. She had to fight to keep a dismissive sneer off her face.
“And third, and most important of all—I don’t love you like that, Lilah. I don’t now and I won’t.”
“Why not?” Lilah demanded, her tone fierce, her posture aggressive.
Tom set his coffee cup down and looked out the window at the falling snow for a long time. When he turned back to her, his eyes were filled with more sadness than Lilah had ever seen in anyone’s eyes.
“Because I’m already in love with someone, Lilah,” he said softly. There were thorns and broken glass in his voice.
“With who?” demanded Lilah.
“With Nix’s mom. With Jessie Riley.”
Lilah blinked. “But . . . Nix’s mother is dead. Charlie Pink-eye killed her.”
“Yes,” agreed Tom. “Charlie beat her so badly that she was dying when I found her. I held her while she died, Lilah. I felt her go. I felt her heart stop. I felt her last breath on my lips.”
A single tear broke and fell down Tom’s cheek.
“I loved Jessie Riley with my whole heart.”
“I—” began Lilah, but Tom shook his head.
“No.” He wiped the tear away with his fingers and looked at the wetness for a long moment. “I had to use a sliver to keep her from coming back.”
“Oh . . .”
“You know,” Tom said softly, “this year, during the spring festival, I was going to propose to her. Benny and Nix don’t know that. There’s a silversmith in Haven who was making the ring.”
He sniffed and took a breath.
“Jessie had my heart, Lilah. And . . . when she died, I think that part of me died with her.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone else. Not like that.”
“In books,” Lilah protested, “people heal. They get over it.”
“Other people, maybe,” Tom said. “But—those books were written before First Night.”
It was the last thing he said about it. Lilah stayed for a cup of coffee, but they sat at the table and looked at things inside their own heads and said nothing to each other. Her coffee was cold and untouched when she left the house, and they never spoke of it again.
Somewhere, somehow, during the long weeks after that conversation with Tom, Lilah’s heart changed. She let go of her desire for Tom, though in a different way she loved him more than ever. She always would.
Now Tom was dead.
She walked on along the stream, pushing herself to focus on her mission.