Chapter 13 Hot tea
Lily's POV
Ryan sat close and took my wet hands in both of his.
"Come home with me. You will catch a cold staying out here like this."
"I cannot," I said, slipping my hands free gently.
"Why not? You can tell me everything properly and my parents would be so happy to see you. Mum still talks about you."
"Ryan." I looked at him directly. "We are not nine anymore. I have responsibilities. I have a job and I cannot afford to lose it."
"Lily, what is actually going on?"
I exhaled slowly. "My mother is almost completely blind and we are running out of money. If I do not work we do not eat. It is that simple."
"You know I can help—"
"I do not want to be a burden to anyone," I said standing up. "I have to go."
He stood immediately. He reached into his jacket and produced a small card, holding it out toward me.
"Lily." His voice was quiet and serious. "If it gets too hard. If they stretch you past the point where you can bounce back. Call me. Any time."
I looked at the card in his hand. Then I took it.
He handed me his umbrella without asking whether I wanted it and walked back into the rain without one, hands in his pockets, unhurried.
I watched him go.
Then I stepped out into the drizzle with the umbrella over my head and hot tears running down my face and walked toward the Harrington house.
The whole way there I thought about the boy I had defended in that alley, round faced and frightened, clutching his block of cheese. And the man who had just walked away in the rain so I could stay dry. Somewhere between nine years old and now, Ryan Will had become someone solid and certain and at ease in his own skin.
And here I was. Soaked and broken and hiding a business card in my bra because I was too proud to admit I might need it.
I almost tore it up twice on the walk home.
I kept it both times.
I knocked and the door opened almost immediately.
Mia stood in the doorway with her phone already in her hand and worry written across every feature of her small face. She looked me over from head to toe, taking in the wet hair and the soaked uniform and the eyes that I knew were still puffy and red.
She held up her phone.
You were supposed to pick me up.
The promise hit me like a wave. "I know, baby. I am so sorry. Aunty was not feeling well. I needed some air." I crouched to her level. "Are you okay? Did Wade come?"
She did not answer that. Instead she disappeared for thirty seconds and came back with a towel which she pressed firmly into my hands and then stood watching me with her arms folded until I used it.
Something about the firmness of it, the care packed into that small bossy gesture, loosened something in my chest that I had been holding tight since the cafeteria.
Mia really needed me. That was real regardless of everything else that had happened today.
I was not going anywhere.
I was still drying my hair when Wade appeared in the sitting room doorway.
My jaw tightened immediately.
He moved into the room slowly, hands in his pockets, eyes moving between me and Mia, looking for an opening. He paced near the far wall like he was not sure what to do with himself, waiting for Mia to give him a chance to speak.
"Mia, how was school today?" I asked, keeping my eyes on her, my voice deliberately warm.
She settled at my feet and began carefully pulling warm socks onto my cold feet without looking up, completely absorbed in the task.
"Did she tell you I picked her up early?" Wade said, moving slightly closer. "I went early today, Mia. Aren't you happy I came early?"
Mia continued with the socks. She did not look up.
Neither did I.
"Lily—"
"Wade." I kept my voice even. "The last thing I want right now is to hear your voice."
"Please, just let me—"
"Get the hell out of here."
The words came out with more force than I intended and he actually stepped back, something flickering across his face that I did not have the energy to examine. Then he turned and left the room without another word.
Mia looked up at me after he was gone. I smoothed her hair back gently and she rested her head against my knee and within twenty minutes she was fast asleep across my lap, small and warm and completely trusting.
I sat in the quiet sitting room with her head on my legs and stared at the wall.
Footsteps. Then Wade appeared in the doorway again, moving carefully this time, slowly, like he was aware of Mia sleeping. He was holding a mug with both hands and he crossed the room without speaking and set it down on the table beside me.
Hot tea. Steam rising from the top.
He straightened up, looked at me briefly, and left without a word.
I stared at the mug for a long moment.
Then I picked it up and wrapped both hands around it and let the warmth move through my palms and I did not know what to do with the feeling that came with it.
For the rest of that day Wade was unrecognisable.
He moved through the house quietly and carefully, helping without being asked, staying out of my way when I needed space and appearing with exactly the right thing when I did not. He washed up after dinner. He made sure Mia had everything she needed before bed. He made dinner without any announcement, setting it on the table and retreating to his room like he had not done it.
When I woke the next morning there was breakfast on my bedside table. Toast, juice and a small plate of fruit, arranged neatly, still warm.
I sat up and looked at it for a long time.
He came in a while later to collect the empty plates and I watched him move around my room, quiet and efficient, not quite meeting my eyes.
"What is all this about?" I asked.
He picked up the plates. Walked to the door. Stopped with his back to me.
"I just want you to talk to me," he said. The words came out carefully, like he had been carrying them for a while and was not entirely sure how to put them down. "I just want to know that you are not still angry."
I looked at him standing there in my doorway.
"I do not think I can ever forgive you," I said quietly.
He turned around and came back toward the bed, his expression open in a way I had not seen before.
"Please—"
"Get out," I said.
He picked up the plates and walked out and pulled the door shut behind him.
I sat in the silence he left and pulled my knees to my chest and stared at the wall.
The tea had been warm. The breakfast had been warm. And the look on his face just now had been something I did not have a clean word for.
It did not fix anything.
But I sat with it quietly for longer than I intended to.