“I wrote down ‘I care,’” I said, still looking at Lily. “But since I suspect that won’t be enough”—I shifted my gaze to Victoria, who might not have chosen to press me the way she’d pressed Lily—“I’ll throw in another secret for good measure.”

There wasn’t much I could have said that would have stood a chance of distracting Campbell from Lily’s admission—and everything it implied about Lily’s relationship with Campbell’s brother. So I went for something just as personal, a corollary to caring—and being well aware of the dangers of caring too much.

“I do know what I want,” I said. “And I know what I don’t want.” I’d never actually said this out loud before, but the words came out easily. “I never want to fall in love.”

That night, when Lily and I snuck back into the family’s lake house and to the turret room, our grandmother was the one who caught us on the stairs.

“Your mama isn’t happy you girls pulled a disappearing act,” she warned Lily mildly.

“Mama’s never happy,” Lily said. “Or she always is. Honestly, it’s getting hard to tell.”

Lillian’s expression softened—or at least shifted—as she processed the truth in Lily’s words. Without any additional commentary, she turned to me. “Sawyer, your mama might have a bit of a headache in the morning.” My grandmother was far too discreet to say the word drunk, but she did elaborate. “I believe there were Long Island iced teas involved.”

The fact that my mom had been drinking in their presence was enough to get an eyebrow raise out of me. They were lucky she hadn’t gotten weepy and started reminiscing about my conception.

Assuming she didn’t.

“Come on,” I told Lily, nodding toward the turret room. “Ellie Taft sleeps like the dead when there are Long Island iced teas involved.”

Since my mom was passed out in one of the twin beds in the turret room, Lily and I both squeezed into the other. It was a tight fit, but we were both spent, and I don’t think either one of us wanted to be alone. Her hair ended up spread across our pillow. Mine was bunched up beneath me.

I didn’t say a word to her about Walker, and she didn’t say a thing to me about love.

CHAPTER 34

Morning came early—and by morning, I meant John David. I awoke to him cannonballing onto the bed Lily and I were sharing. I ended up with what I was fairly certain would turn into a pretty impressive bruise, and Lily ended up on the floor.

John David, on all fours on the bed, made no apologies. “Golf cart,” he declared emphatically. “Parade.”