Page 69 of Lillian

“Finally,” I tease her, and she smacks my thigh. The feeling like a feather brushing against me.

“Let’s see. When I first moved in with Kim and Jimmy, it was a rough transition while I applied for my foster license. We butted heads about parenting styles, cleanliness, groceries, youname it. But the day that Grace and I moved out, I cried on my bed in my new house all night because I felt so alone without my sister. I suppose I got kind of attached.”

“That’s understandable. You were alone for the first time in a while. And with a baby under one to keep alive by yourself. I probably would have cried too.” My words are meant to be understanding, but I get the added benefit of hearing her addicting laugh.

“Right,” she agrees. Then goes on to her second admission. “I joined an adult softball league one summer.” Her cheeks turn a little pink, and my curiosity is piqued.

“What’s wrong with that?” I brush my thumb across her cheek where the color intensifies.

“Nothing iswrongwith it. I just happened to not be very good.” She shrugs and holds up a third finger like she’s going to move on.

“Uh uh. No way. There’s a story there, Frasier.” My smile is wide as she glares at me. “Tell me.”

“There may have been anincidentat first base. But it wasn’t my fault!”

“Whose fault was it?” The mirth in my voice is hard to hide.

“Becky freaking Summers. First baseman for the other team. I was running through the base after my hit, and Iswearshe tripped me.”

“You tripped running through first?”

“No!Shetripped me. I swear I saw her foot kick back.” The ‘v’ in between her eyebrows and little twist in her lips is adorable.

“Why would she trip you?” I snort.

Silence. A sinking feeling in my gut.

“Frasier,” I start slowly. “Why did she trip you?”

Lillian looks into my eyes for a second, maybe deciding where my mood is before answering. “I might have hooked up with her ex.” I try not to let any emotions show on my face—eventhough it feels like a punch to my gut—because she’s still staring at me. Why the fuck am I even upset? Lord knows I wasn’t celibate while we were apart.

Lillian waits for me to say something, looking worried. It’s not fair to be upset, so I go for humor. “What a bitch,” I say lightly.

A breath punches out of her, and she chuckles nervously. “Seriously,” she agrees.

“That’s not bad, though. So you tripped.” I shrug.

“Well, the really embarrassing part is that I broke my wrist. I took a hard fall and tried to catch myself, but my wrist twisted. I wore a cast for almost two months.”

“What?” My mouth drops open. “What’d you say her name was?”

“Becky S–” she starts, then looks at me suspiciously. “Wait. Why?”

“I’m just curious.” Because physically assaulting someone for dating your ex is uncalled for. But especially Lillian, one of the most kind-hearted, empathetic people I’ve ever known.

“What are you going to do?” The way she’s staring at me, the wary look in her eyes, makes me bark out a laugh.

“For fuck’s sake, Frasier. I’m not in the mafia. I’m not about to beat the girl. I just think a nice little care package is warranted.”

Her cheeks heat again. “What kind of care package?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet. Maybe a bag of flaming dog shit on her porch?” I run a hand along my jaw, thinking.

“Summers,” is her quick response to my idea.

“Hmm?” I ask, distracted with all the possibilities.

“Becky Summers. And she lives in Flagstaff. I can write down her address for you if you’d like.” The minx bats her eyelashes at me. Devious little shit.

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