you... “Not that I blame them.” She tugged off the other work glove. “A lot of water passed under the bridge.”
“More like a flood.”
Lillie couldn’t very well disagree. Face the discomfort, she told herself. Face it head-on.
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s only natural that people doubt a full recovery. Even after talking with the rehab staff...” She shook her head. “I don’t expect most of the people in my life will forgive and forget easily. I realize that I still have a lot to prove.” Should she say it? Lillie went for broke: “To everyone.”
She braced herself, waiting for Jase to agree that he, too, was still wary.
“I can’t be a hundred percent certain,” she went on, “but it seems at least Mom and Dad have confidence in me again.”
“But not the Sams, or Molly and Matt.”
“Oh, they’re all being really nice. I think they know how hard I’m trying, but—”
“A case of ‘do or do not, there is no try,’ huh?”
If she’d had her way, their first real conversation wouldn’t have been anything like this. For starters, she’d have called him, arranged a time and place to deliver the money she owed, and in place of muddy sneakers, holey jeans and a paint-spattered cap, she would have shown up in something feminine and colorful. Lillie had never minded his take-charge personality. It was how he’d stayed on top of things as manager of the pub, what helped him turn his mother’s business into a thriving corporation. Without that trait, he wouldn’t have looked and sounded so professional on TV.
Right now, though, Lillie wouldn’t have complained if Jase was a bit less competent.
In all fairness, Jase wasn’t responsible for how bleak she felt. Her addiction was. One of the toughest things about coming home had been seeing and hearing for herself that everything they’d said at Rising Sun had been true: you may never win back their trust, so remember, you’re doing this for yourself. Lillie felt strong enough to cope with that for now, but what if her loved ones felt the same way in six months or a year? Would she be strong enough then?
“Aw, quit looking so glum, Lill. I watched you tough it out through those awful exercises during physical therapy. And you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t toughed out rehab, too. You’ve got that going for you, plus, you’re stubborn. More stubborn than anyone I know. If you really want to beat this thing—permanently this time—you will.”
If? Why the extra emphasis on the word?
“So how long have you and Whitney been dating?” Lillie hoped he wouldn’t tell her there was more to the relationship than that.
“Not long. Couple months, give or take.”
Her dad implied that Jase had seen other women, too, since their breakup. Any rational person would agree that he had every right to move on. At the moment, Lillie wasn’t feeling very rational.
She started to ask how they’d met when he stopped her with “I, uh, I guess I’d better head out. Need to get dog food, pick up some groceries and stuff.”
“When did you get a dog? What breed is it?”
This time his quiet laughter sounded halfway sincere. “It isn’t mine, it’s Mom’s. He’s a mutt. German shepherd–Doberman–Irish setter mix, near as the vet can tell. Good-lookin’ pup, but big. And sheds enough to make a whole other dog. Ronald showed up at her door one day, and stayed.”
Lillie smiled at that. “Ronald, huh?” She remembered the full-color autographed photo of the former president on Colette’s office wall, right beside the letter he’d dictated, detailing the country’s appreciation for Jase’s dad’s years of military service.
Jase only nodded.
“I’m sure she’s grateful for the companionship, especially since you and Drew and Dora travel so much.”
A look of disbelief crossed his face, and he took a half step back.
“I didn’t mean for that to sound like I think you aren’t doing enough for Colette. I’m sure you’re there every chance you get. Drew and Dora, too. I haven’t exactly earned any daughter-of-the-year points, so I have no room to talk.”
Jase’s eyes narrowed just enough to tell her he wasn’t sure whether to believe her.
“Anyway,” he said, replacing his cap, “I’m outta here. It’s good to see you’re doing well, Lill.”
“Good to see you, too, Jase.” Saying his name brought forth the memory of Whitney, calling him Jason. “You are still going by Jase, right?”
“Of course. You know how I feel about being called Jason.”
“I only asked because the other day, Whitney—”
The muscles in his jaw tensed. “Yeah, she’s the only person who calls me that. I’ve kinda learned to live with it.”
He sounded as annoyed as he looked. Difficult as it was to take Whitney’s side, Lillie said, “She probably just wants to make sure everyone knows that her relationship with you is different—more special—than any other.”
“I guess that might explain it.”
Although he followed up with a dry chuckle, Lillie sensed that he wasn’t happy. She tried a different tack.
“Have you told her that you prefer Jase?”
“Not in so many words.” Jase removed the cap again, ran a hand through his dark hair. “Well, I have to go.”
A strange twinge pinched at her heart: What if...what if he’d stopped by to tell her he’d proposed to Whitney, but decided she wasn’t strong enough yet to hear the news?
“Didn’t mean to take you away from your work.”
“You didn’t.”
Lillie held her breath, hoping he’d say, When can I see you again? or better still, I’ve missed you, Lill. He nodded and made a thin line of his mouth. His “I don’t know what to say, so I won’t say anything” face, she remembered. “You’re welcome here anytime, Jase.”
Just then, his cell phone dinged. A worry line creased his forehead as he read the caller ID screen. Whitney. Lillie would have bet her wheelbarrow on it.
Jase slid wraparound sunglasses from his shirt pocket.
“See you around, Lill,” he said, and made his way down the driveway.
It wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear, but it beat “goodbye.”
Lillie faced the rows of marigolds and zinnias she’d planted in front of the roses. Funny, but they looked even brighter through the sheen of tears.
The counselors had cautioned her against expecting anything more than an arm’s-length friendship with Jase, and yet, somewhere deep in her heart, she’d hidden a glimmer of hope that when he realized
