Midnight Lily

  I smiled. "Okay, I'll think about it."

  "Good. Very good. You've made wonderful progress today. Our hour's up, but I'll see you next week."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ryan

  Returning to work had been one of the easier transitions. The guys had welcomed me back with open arms. Of course, they had never completely understood the extent of what had been going on inside my head. They'd seen me fall apart, start taking pain pills. They'd seen me participate in the same behavior as Holden before he’d died: partying, meaningless sex, reckless driving. They'd even seen me refer to myself as Holden, but apparently they’d just thought it was me acting out as part of the grieving process. Or perhaps as an effect of the drugs and alcohol. They hadn't understood how deeply disturbed I'd been. Otherwise, I'd probably have been committed instead of flown by private helicopter to a remote, luxury lodge. They hadn't known, and that was good because they'd probably never trust me again if they had known the whole truth. Only Dr. Katz knew . . . Dr. Katz and Lily.

  Of course, maybe Lily knew it because I knew it. "Jesus." I sighed, despair making my head ache.

  "Ryan my man," Jameson, a team member said, entering my office. "How's it hanging?"

  "Hey, Jameson. Not bad. What's up? How's the shoulder?"

  Jameson rotated it as if in habit. "Better. A lot better. Hey, a bunch of us are going out tonight. Join us."

  "Oh, nah, I gotta work in the morning."

  "I didn't say you had to get trashed. I know you're past that. I just meant you haven't hung out with any of us in almost a year. We miss you, man." He slapped me on the back and I smiled. "Come on, it will be like your coming-out party. Your quinceañera." He did a few salsa steps. I laughed. "What do you say? There's a whole world out there, sport."

  "What the hell? Okay." I had been nervous about going out, about being around the team, around alcohol. But maybe the doc was right. I had to live in the world at some point.

  "Good deal. Go home and get yourself dolled up in your party dress and meet us there at nine."

  I chuckled. "See you then."

  **********

  The team had decided to go a bar in the financial district of San Francisco, decorated to mimic a pirate ship with old wooden barrels on the walls and ceilings. Jameson had texted to let me know the guys had a table on the mezzanine level. I made my way through the crowded bar and the guys all stood and gave me a round of cheers as I took a seat. I motioned for them all to sit down, embarrassed. "Okay, okay," I said as they laughed. "Very funny." Mike, a team running back grabbed my shoulder and shook me.

  "Welcome back to the land of the living," he said and I couldn't help laughing. It was either that or cry and I figured I'd cried enough for one lifetime. I tried my best to tamp down my anxiety, tune out the overly loud, drunken noise all around me, ignore the smell of alcohol, and just focus on my buddies.

  We talked and laughed for a while, and I was genuinely having a decent time, but someone ordered a Jack and Coke.

  That had been Holden's drink.

  Melancholy assaulted me, and my mood shifted. Suddenly, I was hyper aware that Holden wasn't there, and he never would be. I kept a smile plastered on my face anyway. But I couldn't maintain it once Taylor arrived, sitting down on Jameson's lap and whispering something in his ear. For the next ten minutes, she alternated between making out with him and shooting me glances that looked half suspicious and half mocking. I didn't need any of it—this. This had been Holden's downfall or at least part of it. I didn't think anyone noticed that I'd grown very quiet. "Hey, I'm gonna go use the bathroom. I'll be back," I said to no one in particular, standing up and walking toward the stairs.

  I used the bathroom and then headed to the bar, not ready to return upstairs yet to the boisterous laughter of the team, to all the girls milling around the table, some taking pictures, some even filming, looks of desperation on their faces, hoping one of the team members would notice them, even if it was only for a night. When the busy bartender pointed to me, I ordered a water. He scowled and I gave him an apologetic look, sticking a ten in his tip jar even though I should have told him to fuck off. People get thirsty.

  "You get stuck as designated driver, too?"

  I looked to my right and there was a pretty girl with dark hair and red lipstick standing next to me, apparently waiting for her drink order. In the dim light of the bar, her hair looked almost black and it made me think of Lily. Enough. Stop chasing ghosts, Ryan. I nodded at the girl and looked back to the bartender who was serving some people at the other end of the bar.

  "I'd forgotten how obnoxious drunk people are when you're not drinking," she said, rolling her eyes and giving me a small smile. When I didn't say anything, she looked embarrassed. "And if I have to hear one more bad pirate joke . . ."

  I furrowed my brows. "Pirate joke?" I couldn't help asking.

  She used her finger to wave it around the room. Ah, the pirate theme. "Fetch me a flagon of ale, wench!" She said this in a deep voice, apparently mimicking the person who had requested she make a bar run. "I mean, seriously, right?" She bit at her lip.

  I laughed. She really was pretty.

  The bartender set my water in front of me, and before I could even thank him, he was back down the bar, pointing at another customer. I turned toward the girl, raising my water glass. "Good luck." Stupid thing to say.

  But she gave me a big smile anyway. "You too."

  I walked back toward the stairs, but couldn't bring myself to climb them. Suddenly this was the very last place I wanted to be. But it would be rude to just leave without saying goodbye. I'd take a breather outside for a little bit, and then I'd go back in and say my farewells. Make it look like everything was fine and dandy. Setting my water glass down on a table, I exited the bar and stood to the side of the door in the dim light of the awning, my hands in my pockets, wondering why I hadn't guessed it would be this bad. This had never been my scene. Why would I be good at it now? I watched a group of girls giggling as they pushed an obviously drunk friend wearing a white dress and veil with plastic penises pinned all over it into a limo. The sign stuck on her ass read, "I like being spanked."

  The doors to the bar opened and someone exited, coming to stand next to me. We both looked at each other at the same time, her eyes widening, her expression one of growing embarrassment. It was the girl I'd talked to for a minute at the bar. "I did not follow you out here, I swear."

  I laughed. "Sure you didn't."

  She rolled her eyes. "No, really, I didn't. But since you're here, do you have a cigarette?"

  "I don't smoke."

  "I don’t usually either, but my ex-boyfriend just showed up with his fiancée and—"

  "You're not drunk enough to deal with that kind of thing tonight."

  She laughed. "Exactly. Not nearly."

  The door opened again and for a second before it closed, raucous laughter flowed out, someone screaming as if in glee.

  "Sounds like adult Disneyland in there," she murmured.

  "No wonder I'm out here."

  Her eyes widened. "You don't like Disneyland?" She looked around, as if making sure no one had heard me, like I'd just told her I was a terrorist.

  I laughed and shook my head. "No. But in all fairness, I've never been there. I'm just assuming based on the fact that I don't like roller coasters. Or magic. Or wonder."

  She leaned forward and laughed. "Right. Magic. Wonder. So boring. No wonder adult Disneyland isn't really your speed."

  I shook my head and pointed across the street to a coffee shop. The sign was making a strange buzzing sound and one of the F’s in coffee was missing. An old man was sitting at a booth at the window, his head down on the table, either sleeping, or possibly dead. "That place over there's more my speed."

  She gazed over at it sadly. "Yeah, there's definitely no magic or wonder there. Probably very little hygiene either."

  I nodded, looking over at her, and giving her a slow smile. "Ah, but there is one thin
g. Donuts."

  Her eyes widened. "Let's go."

  I laughed. "You can't just leave your friends."

  "I'll text them to let them know where I am." She nodded to the door. "It's not like I won't see them if they come outside. We'll sit by the window. By the way, my name's Jenna."

  "Ryan." I smiled. "Okay, why not? Let's go."

  We waited for a few cars to pass and then jogged across the street, pulling the door open to the comforting scents of sugar, grease, and coffee. A waitress at the counter, who was reading a magazine, gestured her hand around the coffee shop, indicating we could choose our seat. I chose a table by the window, a couple down from the (probably) sleeping guy. Jenna slid into the chair across from me. Once the waitress had taken our order, two coffees and two maple-glazed donuts, Jenna asked, "So Ryan, what do you do?"

  "I'm an athletic trainer."

  She laughed softly. "Is that a job or an undergarment?"

  "Ha ha." But I gave her a genuine chuckle.

  "So seriously, what does an athletic trainer do?"

  I shrugged. "I'm basically the team's favorite employee. I tape ankles, rub sore muscles, and rehab injuries. In a nutshell."

  She raised an eyebrow. "So you work for, like, a sports team?"

  I nodded. "I work for the 49ers."

  Her eyes widened. "No shit? That's so cool." The waitress brought our coffee and Jenna dumped a couple packets of sugar into hers before saying, "I'm a fan. What happened with Holden Scott last year was so tragic. Did you know him well?"

  "Yeah," I said, and cleared my throat when it came out croaky. "Yeah."

  Apparently there was something in my face that gave Jenna pause because she took a sip of her coffee and then said, "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay," I said. It so wasn't okay. I missed him. But I hated making others uncomfortable. "So what do you do, Jenna?"

  She smiled, obviously relieved to change the subject. "I'm in marketing." She told me a little bit about her job and the company she worked for. I mostly listened, although my mind wandered just a little. There are all these little milestones after you lose someone. Mostly, they pass by in ways that others don't even recognize, but they still continued to jolt me. I wondered how long that would last? Those few moments after Holden's name was mentioned when I had to work to regain my equilibrium, those few moments when I had to focus on not sinking to my knees.

  Be proud of those victories, Dr. Katz had said. For that's what they are, small personal triumphs of strength. And they matter.

  I tuned back in to Jenna. "Anyway," she sighed, "I like it. I like the job, and the travel it involves."

  "How often do you travel?"

  "At least once a week. I'm actually leaving for Chicago tomorrow. Part of the reason I offered to be the DD." She smiled, tilting her head. She was flirting with me, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. She was pretty, definitely pretty. But would I ever feel that intense rush of feeling for another woman that I'd felt for Lily? I guessed not, especially if that had been purely in my own mind. It would be impossible to recreate a fantasy, I supposed. Maybe a reality check was exactly what I needed. Maybe spending time with someone like Jenna—someone inarguably real—was just what the doctor ordered, so to speak.

  We drank our coffee and ate our donuts, not lacking for conversation, and it was pleasant. When Jenna's friends texted her, I walked her back across the street and waited for them to exit the bar. I decided no one would miss me if I didn't go back inside and say goodbye. They'd all be completely wasted by this point. They could call a limo. Jenna looked at me hopefully. "This turned into a far better night than I thought it would be," she said. Her expression moved from hopeful to expectant. The look that said I like you. I want to know more. Lily had looked at me like that. Deep breath, Ryan. Lily is . . . gone. And spending time with Jenna had felt . . . easy.

  "For me, too." I smiled. "Can I call you, Jenna?"

  She released a breath. "Absolutely. Here, let me give you my card." She pulled a white business card out of her small purse and handed it to me, biting her lower lip. "I really look forward to hearing from you, Ryan."

  I smiled. "Good night." When I'd walked to the corner, I turned back once. Jenna was still standing on the sidewalk, watching me leave. I held up my hand and waved, and she waved back.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lily

  Are you a dream? Or maybe a . . . ghost?

  Maybe. Yes, I think I might be.

  I don't feel like my life is . . . real.

  The words skittered through my mind as I stood staring at the small portion of the Golden Gate Bridge I could see from the window of the hospital. My eyes moved to a woman walking by, pushing a baby in a stroller on one of the garden paths below. Somewhere nearby, a car horn blared. Did I feel like my life was real now? Maybe. At least more so than it had been. Here, I could people watch, interact with others, walk in the grass . . . even go out now that I'd been given more freedom.

  "You've gone to see him again, haven't you?"

  I turned my head from the window to glance at my grandmother as she entered the room. I crossed my arms over my chest.

  "He didn't see me," I murmured.

  My grandmother sighed. "Lily, darling. He's doing well now. It's time to let him go. In fact, we need to talk about returning to Colorado. My lease on the house in Marin is up next month."

  I turned from the window and moved quickly to the small sofa where she'd just sat down. I took her hands in mine. Ignoring her comment about the lease, I said, "That's just it, Grandma; he's doing so well. He's back at work. He seems to be . . . himself again."

  My grandmother gave a short laugh. "Himself? Lily, you don't even know who that is. You have no idea. And he has no idea who you are either."

  I shook my head, denying her words. "That's not true. I know him. I know who he is in here." I pulled one hand away and used it to tap against my chest. He’s in my heart. For some reason, the vision of those hands—fingertips just barely brushing—that had been carved into the rock in Colorado raced through my mind. Grasping for each other in the dark. I'd felt him. I'd known him.

  My grandmother shook her head. "We've gone over this and over this. We agreed to move here temporarily while you were treated. We agreed to that. But you promised you'd let me be the one to check on him. And that we'd go home once your treatment was complete."

  "I haven't broken that promise," I said, pulling my other hand free and leaning back on the sofa. I'd go home with her. First to the rental house and then to Colorado. But would I stay there? Could I bear it?

  My grandma gave me a sympathetic look. "I understand, my love. I know exactly what you're feeling. I know how much it hurts. And that's the reason I won't let you involve yourself with Ryan Ellis again. I won't let you hurt him or hurt yourself. It isn't fair to him. If you love him, you'll let him go." She ran her hand over her short, coiffed hair. I wanted to cry because I knew in my heart she was right.

  I bit at my lip. It was pointless arguing with her. And if I persisted, she'd just cry, and I didn't want to see her cry. I couldn't deal with her sadness—her disappointment—and my own pain. It'd been almost a year and I still felt desperately sad. She'd said it would end, and yet it hadn't. Not really. I worked so hard to stop the hurting. I pressed my lips together and stood. "I'm going out to get some coffee."

  "You're going out?" she asked.

  "Yes, to the coffee shop up the street." That was something I loved about being here in San Francisco. No matter what it was I wanted or needed, it was generally within fifteen minutes walking distance.

  My grandmother jumped to her feet. "We could have coffee here. In the cafeteria."

  "No, I need to get out." I was tired of being inside, tired of the smell of disinfectant. "And I'd really rather go alone."

  She frowned. "Okay. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

  Sighing, I turned to her. "It's just coffee, Grandma, I'll be fine. And I have to get used to living in the real world aga
in."

  "Okay, Lily," she said again. "You're right. Of course you are. I guess I'll get going then, too." I pretended I didn't notice she was clasping her hands as if she was wringing out a rag.

  "Oh, Lily," she said, following me as I pulled on my sweater. I thought she was going to try to stop me. "I forgot to tell you. My friend, Cora, from the tennis club, is hosting a charity event in Marin for those Guatemalan kids she's always talking about, and she wants you to attend. I told her it'd be a wonderful way for you to get out. I thought you'd probably love that. It's on your birthday—your twenty-first. We could celebrate there."

  I hesitated. "A charity event for Guatemalan kids?" I would love that. And it was my grandmother's way of apologizing to me. I offered her a small smile. "That sounds wonderful."

  "We can look at dresses online later. Or I could call the personal shopper from Bloomingdales. I'm sure they'd bring some samples here for you to try on."

  I grimaced. How embarrassing for a stranger to bring dresses to me here. "Or I could go there," I said. My grandmother nodded, but her smile faltered as if me going to a small coffee shop was tolerable but a big department store crossed the line.

  I kissed her cheek, put on my shoes, and left, walking quickly through the grounds and smiling at George as I exited the front gate. "Be careful, Lily," he called as he always did.

  "I will, George."

  It was a foggy, drizzly morning and I couldn't help but recall that day in the forest under the branches of a tree. My heart clenched. Ryan. Sometimes it was still difficult for me to refer to him by that name, even in my mind. I'd met him as Holden. I'd fallen in love with him as Holden. But Shakespeare had been right because what was there in a name? Holden, Ryan . . . I loved the man.

  I loved the man who was intense and quiet, gentle and shy, smart and funny. I loved the man who’d looked at me like he wasn't sure how I'd come to be his and was counting his lucky stars. I closed my eyes against the tears. I'd never be his again, and yet I felt like he'd always be mine. Did he wonder why I'd left? I knew he probably didn't understand, and that was my biggest regret. Maybe I should have left a note . . . something. But my grandmother had agreed to help him in exchange for us leaving that night. She'd agreed to help him as long as I promised I wouldn't have any more contact with him. And once I'd told her about why he was there . . .