Page 1 of Claiming Lily

Chapter One

LILY

My shoulders finally relax as I pull into the driveway. Matt’s truck is here, plus three others that belong to his best friends. There are a few more cars on the side of the road, more than normal. My heart skips.

Maybe he actually remembered my birthday this time.

I climb out of my BMW and tug my cardigan tighter against the late September chill. There are two more weeks until October and already the crisp bite of mountain air holds the promise that winter is on the way. Right now it feels perfect. I love having an autumn birthday. Normally I’d take a vacation day, but my credit cards won’t pay themselves off. “Help! Someone help!”

The voice cuts through my good mood. I spin around, scanning the neighboring yards until I spot Mrs. Bertha Watts waving her cane frantically at the old oak tree in her front yard.

“Damn it, Whiskers! Get down from there!”

Her tabby cat perches on a branch about eight feet up, completely unbothered by his owner’s distress. I drop my purse back in the car and jog over. That cat is always causing trouble. He sure is cute though.

“Mrs. Watts, what happened?”

“That foolish cat chased a squirrel right up there and now he’s too scared to come down.” She brandishes her cane like a weapon. “I’ve been out here twenty minutes trying to coax him down.”

I eye the tree, then kick off my heels. The bark scrapes against my palms as I hoist myself up on a low branch, grateful for all those childhood years climbing trees to escape chores. Whiskers meows pitifully when I reach his branch. He loves getting into trouble, however, he has a hard time getting out of it.

We may have that in common.

“Come here, you drama king.” I scoop him up and cradle him to my chest, ignoring his claws digging into my blouse. “There we go.”

I hand him down to Mrs. Watts, who holds him like a baby. The cat’s ears flatten. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t appreciate the baby hold, but who am I to tell her that?

“Oh, bless you, dear. How can I ever repay you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind helping.” I brush bark bits off my hands. “You better get inside before it gets colder.”

She nods, already shuffling toward her front door. “You’re an angel, Lily.”

The excitement resurfaces as I head back to my car and grab my purse. I glance at the trucks and cars again. My chest flutters. Aspen and Callie are out of town, but maybe the guys planned something. Even if my best friends aren’t here, it’ll be fun to celebrate with my boyfriend and other friends.

Energy shoots through me like I took a shot of espresso. I practically bounce up the front steps. I try to ignore the fact I can see light spilling from every window in the house. Growing up with Mom counting every penny, turning off lights became second nature. Matt grew up different. He thinks I’m being ridiculous when I flip switches behind him, but old habits die hard. It’s one of many things we fundamentally disagree about.

But not tonight. Tonight will be amazing.

I push open the front door and step inside. My foot catches on work boots that are sitting right in the middle of the entryway and I pitch forward. Gasping, I slap my hand against the wall to steady myself, wincing as my ankle protests at the twisted angle.

Irritation shoots through my veins. “Jesus Christ, Matt,” I mutter under my breath. We’ve talked about this dozens of times. I don’t want to be the nagging girlfriend, but I can only almost die so many times before I turn a little feral.

Okay. Deep breaths. If this is a birthday party, I can’t go in pissed. There could be cake and balloons and all the things I’ve been secretly hoping for since I woke up this morning.

I set my heels aside, moving Matt’s boots as well so no one else hurts themselves, and set my purse on the credenza. I use the mirror above it to check my appearance, smoothing down my skirt and fixing my wind tossed red hair from the rescue. I hope Whiskers learned his lesson. Brushing my fingers through my strands, I study my features. When did I start looking so much like Mom? My throat tightens and my brain threatens to go to a sad place.

The familiar sounds of gunfire and explosions cut through my grief. A string of curse words that would make a sailor blush drifts out of the living room.

My eyes flutter closed and disappointment douses me, a bucket of icy water. Those are definitely not surprise birthday sounds. The great thing about having a boyfriend who constantly disappoints me is that I’m too busy hurting from a failing relationship to be sad about Mom being sick.

“Fuck! Gage, you camping piece of shit!” Matt shouts.

“Dude, you walked right into my line of sight,” Gage counters, voice much quieter and controlled.

“This fucking lag is killing me!”

If they’re already playing video games, does that mean Matt forgot about me? It’s okay, I tell myself, forcing my feet to move forward. Maybe he’s killing time until I get home. Maybe the party stuff is hidden somewhere.