Page 22 of Lucky

I’m halfway through the second verse when footsteps crunch lightly across the grass.

Small footsteps.

I freeze.

“Hi,” a small voice says.

I turn slowly. Lily stands a few feet away, her loose strands of curls catching the sunlight. She’s smiling like she’s worried I’ll run.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just… wanted to ask if I could listen.”

My throat tightens. I tuck my hair behind my ear and try to breathe normally. “Uh—sure. If you want.”

She sits on the edge of the step, swinging her legs. Silent for abeat. Then:

“I know who you are. And I know that’s your song.”

My stomach drops.

She doesn’t say it like a threat or gossip.

Just a fact.

“I recognized your voice,” she says softly. “My mom used to play your music all the time. Especially when she was sad.”

I stare at her, heart thudding. “And you’re not… telling people?”

She shakes her head. “No. I won’t. I promise.”

Her eyes flick to the guitar. “You were singing‘Paper Wings.’”

I blink. “You know that one?”

She nods. Takes a breath. And then—quietly, gently—she sings the first line.

Her voice is soft and a little wobbly, but there’s something in it. Something warm and open, like she means every word.

It hits me like a punch.

No one has sung my music to me before.

When she stops, she looks up shyly. “Sorry. I don’t know all the words.”

“You sounded beautiful,” I tell her. My voice cracks, but I don’t hide it.

Her whole face lights up.

She’s talented. Raw, but talented. And God—she could be so good with guidance, with time, with protection.

I glance at her white sneakers tapping the concrete. “You’ve got rhythm.”

She grins. “I do?”

I nod. “You just… feel it. That’s half the battle.”

Lily hugs her knees, thinking. Then she looks up at me.

“What happened to your girl band? Rebel June?”