“How is your mother?” We haven’t talked about her parents at all, other than her mentioning her father passed away.

“She’s really good,” Lily says. “She’s been dating a guy named Rob. He makes her happy, although it’s a little weird seeing her giddy over a man. I like him, though.”

“She lives in Boston now?”

“Yeah, she moved here after my father died to be closer to me.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you have family here.”

“What about you? Does your uncle still live in Boston?”

My uncle?

Oh. I did tell her that. I squeeze the back of my neck and wince. “My uncle.” I can’t remember the exact lie I told her back then—it’s been so long. “My uncle died when I was nine, Lily.”

Her eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “No, you moved in with an uncle when you were eighteen. It’s why you left.”

I sigh, wishing I could go back and redo most of our time together back then, and the things I told her or failed to tell her in order to spare her feelings. But wouldn’t we all go back if we could redo our teenage years? “I lied to you. I didn’t have an uncle in Boston at that point.”

“What?” She’s still shaking her head, trying to make it make sense. She doesn’t seem angry, though. More confused than anything. “Then who did you go live with?”

“No one. I couldn’t keep sneaking into your bedroom forever. I knew it wouldn’t end well, and other than you, there was nothing in that town that could help me better my situation. Boston had shelters and resources. I told you my uncle was still alive so you wouldn’t worry about me.”

Lily’s head falls back against her headboard and she closes her eyes for a bit. “Atlas.” She says my name with sympathy. When she opens her eyes again, it looks like she’s attempting not to tear up. “I don’t know what to say. I thought you had family.”

“I’m sorry I lied. I wasn’t trying to be malicious, I just wanted to spare—”

“Don’t apologize,” she says, interrupting me. “You did the right thing. Winter was about to hit, and you might not have survived it in that house.” She wipes at a tear. “I can’t imagine how hard that was. Moving to Boston at that age with nothing. No one.”

“It worked out,” I say, flashing a grin. “It all worked out.” I’m attempting to pull her out of the mood I just sunk her in. “Don’t think about where we used to be; just think about where we are.”

She smiles. “Where are you right now? Is that your office?”

“It is.” I spin the phone around so she can get a glimpse of it. “It’s small. Just a couch and a computer, but I’m rarely in here. I spend most of my time in the kitchen.”

“Are you at Bib’s?”

“Yeah. Both restaurants are closed on Sundays—I’m just here cleaning up.”