Page 48 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

Lily’s eyes soften with a small smile. She reaches out, her hand resting on my arm. The warmth of her touch seeps through my shirt, comforting me. “Though, I really appreciate that, I learned from Max that you were on an important rescue mission,” she says, her voice filled with understanding. “I think that’s a lot more important than discussing my relationship with Derek or anything else.”

I frown in confusion. “But you were engaged,” I remind her.

“Yes and no. He proposed but asked me to keep it between us. His business was just starting up, and it wasn’t a good time to announce it.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. It’s bitter, tinged with pain. “The truth came out later. He was hoping that I would get a job as a graphic designer and forget about my art, but I would still get to spend some evenings and weekends doing what I love.”

I clench my jaw, anger bubbling up inside me. What a fucking asshole. He’s really a piece of shit, but all I say is, “Which he didn’t like, huh?”

“Nope. He claimed I needed to grow up, leave my dreams . . .” She yawns again, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Exhaustion is written all over her face, and my heart aches for her. “I loved him, but he broke my heart, and for some reason, I held onto that ring thinking maybe he was right.”

I shake my head vehemently, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “But your dreams are part of who you are, and so is your art,” I argue.

She’s so amazing and deserves to be loved for exactly who she is. Why was she with that piece of shit?

Lily gets closer to me, her body pressing against mine. I inhale sharply, the scent of her shampoo filling my nostrils. She leans in, her lips brushing against my cheek in a featherlight kiss. My skin tingles where her lips touched, and I have to fight the urge to pull her into my arms and never let go.

“Let’s go to bed,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear. “We can talk about this tomorrow—or whenever you wake up. I have the feeling that you haven’t slept since the last time we were in bed.”

I smirk, my eyes glinting with mischief. “We barely slept that night,” I remind her, my voice low and suggestive. My cock is getting ready to serve her again with another dose of fuck you all night.

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a playful smile on her lips. “Keep those dirty thoughts to yourself, Montgomery. Right now, we’re going to sleep.” She takes my hand, tugging me toward the bed.

“Tomorrow then, we’ll talk tomorrow about everything that’s been left unsaid,” I mumble as I begin to undress.

As we climb the bed, she says, “Yes. We will do that when you’re rested, Eth.” And with that, I snuggle against her soft curves, close my eyes, and fall deep asleep.

Chapter Thirty

Ethan

I wake slowly, blinking against the sunlight filtering through the blinds. The bed is somehow comfortable but definitely not mine. For a moment, I’m disoriented, unsure of where I am. My mind is struggling to piece together the events of the previous night. Then it comes back to me—last night, driving to Lily’s studio apartment, my heart racing with anticipation and nerves.

I reach across the rumpled sheets, expecting to find her warm body, but my hand meets only cool linen. The space beside me is empty.

Sitting up, I scan the small studio, my eyes taking in every detail. It’s messy, colorful, and filled with my most favorite thing in the world—Lily’s essence. Her personality is etched into every corner, from the paint-splattered easel to the haphazard stack of sketchbooks on the desk. However, there’s no sign of her, no sound of her humming in the kitchen or the soft pad of her footsteps on the hardwood floor.

“Lil?” I call out, my voice echoing in the empty space. There’s no response, only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside.

I make my way to her small bathroom, my bare feet cold against the tile. Unlike the rest of the apartment, it’s neatly organized, her toothbrush sitting in a colorful holder, a stack of fluffy towels on the shelf. But there’s no sign of her in here either, no lingering scent of her perfume or the steam from a recent shower.

Where did she go? Unease prickles across my skin, my heart rate picking up. After last night—she said we’ll talk, right? My mind races with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last. Did she regret letting me stay? Did she change her mind about us?

Why didn’t she wake me up? I pull on last night’s clothes, my movements hurried and clumsy. As I fasten my jeans, my gaze catches on the art covering the walls. I’d been too preoccupied to notice it before, too busy drinking in the sight of Lily’s smooth skin and full lips. But now, the vibrant paintings and sketches capture my attention, demanding to be seen.

Most of the art is signed “LH,” which I assume stands for Lily Harper. My fingers trace the bold strokes, the delicate lines, each one a testament to her talent and passion. Lily’s talent is evident in every piece. Splashes of color dance across the canvas, conveying emotion without definable shapes.

A charcoal study of an old woman’s hands radiates character and strength, the lines and shadows so lifelike I feel I could reach out and touch them. Another piece depicts the Chicago skyline in bold geometric patterns, the city’s energy and vibrancy captured in a few deft strokes.

I stand there, transfixed, my eyes roaming over the artwork. It’s a glimpse into Lily’s soul, a window into the depths of her creativity and imagination. And suddenly, I understand why she fought so hard to hold onto her dreams, why she couldn’t let them go. This is who she is, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone, even Derek, take that away from her.

I’m no art expert, but even I can see the passion and skill behind these works. My fingers trace the brushstrokes, feeling the texture of the paint beneath my fingertips. I can’t understand why her boyfriend tried to keep her from doing what she loves. She’s so talented, her art a reflection of her vibrant soul. But this talented woman left me at her place without a word, and the unease in my gut grows.

I begin to look for my car keys, patting my pockets and scanning the room. But I can’t find them. Frustration builds inside me, my jaw clenching as I try to remember where I last had them. When I step into the small kitchen, my eyes searching for any sign of the keys, I see a note stuck to the fridge.

Eth,

I hate to leave you, but I had to go and check on my family. They’re freaking out about the wedding—long story. It seems like your mom is a handful though. There’s some food in the fridge. I should be back before dinner, I hope you’re awake by then.

Lily ??

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