“No.” I smirked. “I did that this morning.”
Lila grunted, easing into the chair beside me, zipping her coat up to her nose. “I’m aware.”
“That’s why the front door wasn’t locked. Before Evie woke, I came out here to chop firewood. I didn’t think to lock the door again. What were the chances of you flying up here on a Saturday morning unannounced?”
“About as good as the chances of Madeline being diagnosed with breast cancer.”
I turned, inspecting Lila through narrowed eyes.
She focused on the view, but I didn’t miss the tears in her eyes. “She’s my mom too. When my own parents died, Evie’s parents filled that void. I mean … they’ve always treated me like a daughter, even before my parents died, as did mine with Evie. Madeline and Corey are going to walk me down the aisle when I get married. They are my family. I don’t have siblings, and I’m not close with the rest of my living relatives.”
I knew all of this from Evelyn, but I listened as if I didn’t know any of it.
Lila blew out a slow breath. “Madeline told me last night. I insisted we tell Evie right away—for somewhat selfish reasons really. I needed to share the burden of pain. I needed my friend. My sister.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lila slid her gaze in my direction, giving me a sad smile. “Thank you. I’m so glad Evie has you. She’s going to need you a lot over these upcoming months. I have to move forward with the wedding. Graham will make sure she gets to Denver as quickly and as often as possible. However, Evie handles these situations by grasping for any control she can find, which means she will pour herself into work. This cabin will be spotless all the time. Her calendar will become an obsession. She’ll know the times and dates of Madeline’s appointments. Her parents will get a dozen calls a day. They will surrender every tiny detail of what they’re doing, right down to the last time they took a shit.”
I chuckled and so did Lila.
“You do your thing. I’ve got Evelyn. My parents are coming tomorrow. They’ll be here for several months. My mom is great at managing any crisis, so she’ll jump right in and be whatever Evelyn needs her to be while I’m working.”
Lila reached her hand toward the arm of my chair, resting it on mine. “Thank you.”
Rocking in my chair, I returned my gaze to the view. The pain. So much pain waited for Evelyn, no matter what happened to her mom. I knew about pain, and there was nothing I wanted more than to take the pain and bear it for her.
“Oh … how did skiing go yesterday? She was having serious anxiety over it at the dress fitting.”
I grinned. “It went well.”
“She’s terrible. Right? The worst skier in the world.”
I coughed a laugh. “Yes, she’s pretty bad, but I don’t care. I swear to god her willingness to try, for me, put her on this unreachable pedestal in my eyes. She’s fucking amazing.”
“You love her.”
I nodded.
“You should tell her, if you haven’t already.”
“She knows.”
“Are you sure?”
It’s too big for words now. Don’t belittle it with a four-letter word. It’s too intangible. Too undefinable. Don’t ever tell me what you can show me.
“Positive.”
An hour later, Lila, Evelyn’s grandma, and mom made their way back to Denver. Evelyn dove into washing the dishes from breakfast without saying a word to me. I dried the dishes and put them away. Next, she grabbed the bucket of cleaning supplies and marched into the bathroom.
Lila knew her friend quite well.
However, I still had things to learn about this woman who had taken my heart like said heart knew it belonged to her long before we met.
Traveling. Skiing. Caring for the injured.
Those were the things that occupied my time, motivated me, and fulfilled my needs. Love at first sight, destiny, or any fictional shit like that kept a safe distance from my existence. Then one day … Evelyn literally walked into my life, took a seat, and gave me this grin that I felt. Yes … I felt her grin. And while I had a gift—a curse really—for feeling things, a grin was not my usual superhuman sensation. I knew … I just knew I was in trouble—all from a grin.
“What can I do to help you?” I stood at the threshold to the bathroom, leaning my shoulder against it, with my hands tucked into the front pockets of my jeans.
Evelyn cleaned the mirror. “Don’t be silly. You have your own place. I don’t expect you to help me clean mine.”
“Your mom is having surgery in a week.”
Evelyn stopped her motions. Surely, she assumed Lila told me.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m good.” She continued wiping the mirror.
“What can I do for you?”