Chapter 2- Questions In The Dark
1075 Words
Lily tucked Emily into the small bed that had once been hers, back in the cozy farmhouse on Willow Lane. The quilt hand-stitched by her grandmother was faded but comforting, its soft patches a reminder of all the women who had slept beneath it before Emily.
The child yawned, stretching her arms before snuggling into the pillow.
“Read me a story, Mommy?” Emily asked, her voice heavy with sleep.
Lily smiled, smoothing back the curls from her daughter’s forehead. “Tomorrow, sweetheart. You’ve had such a long day, and your eyes can barely stay open.”
Emily pouted for half a second, then her lashes fluttered shut. Within minutes, she was lost to the kind of peaceful slumber that Lily envied.
Only once she was certain Emily was asleep did Lily ease off the edge of the bed and step into the hall. She leaned against the wall, pressing her hands against her face. The encounter in the town square replayed in her mind over and over the shock in Ethan’s eyes, the way he had knelt beside Emily, and the quiet intensity that had lingered when he looked at her.
He had noticed. She knew it.
And sooner or later, Ethan Langford would demand answers.
Ethan sat at the bar of The Rusty Lantern, Cedar Grove’s only real tavern. The low hum of conversation and clinking of glasses filled the space, along with the scent of fried onions and spilled beer. It was a far cry from the exclusive Manhattan clubs and penthouse lounges he frequented, but something about the rustic wood beams and faded photographs on the wall eased the tightness in his chest.
Or it should have. Instead, he found himself staring into his glass of bourbon, untouched.
“Didn’t think I’d ever see you back here,” a familiar voice drawled.
Ethan glanced up to see Marcus Hayes sliding onto the stool beside him. Marcus had been his closest friend in high school, back when football games and Friday-night bonfires had defined their lives. Now, Marcus wore a sheriff’s badge on his chest, his broad frame filling out the khaki uniform.
“I’m not here for long,” Ethan said, swirling the amber liquid. “Business meeting. I’m funding a community project.”
Marcus raised a brow. “Of course you are. The big-shot billionaire swooping back in to save the town.”
Ethan smirked faintly. “Something like that.”
Marcus signaled for a beer, then leaned in slightly. “So. Did you see her yet?”
Ethan’s head snapped up. “Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Lily Monroe. Word travels fast in Cedar Grove. Folks saw you two bump into each other at the square this afternoon.”
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Yeah. I saw her.”
Marcus gave a low whistle. “She looks good, huh?”
“Better than good,” Ethan muttered, surprising himself with the honesty in his voice. He dragged a hand through his hair. “She’s different, though. Older. Stronger.”
Marcus studied him for a moment before his gaze sharpened. “And the little girl?”
Ethan’s grip tightened on the glass. “You heard about that too?”
“Like I said, word travels.” Marcus shrugged. “Cute kid.”
Ethan didn’t respond. He didn’t trust his voice.
Instead, he remembered the dimple in Emily’s chin. The exact same dimple he saw in the mirror every morning when he shaved.
Is she mine?
The question pounded louder with every passing hour.
Marcus must have sensed his turmoil because he added gently, “If you think she’s yours, you’ve got a right to know, Ethan.”
Ethan stared at the bourbon, his reflection warped in the amber swirl. But what if she is? What then?
Back at the farmhouse, Lily slipped onto the porch, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine from the woods beyond. Crickets sang in the darkness, a lullaby that once comforted her, but now it only made her feel small, exposed.
She thought of the years she’d spent away scraping by in the city, working double shifts, putting herself through nursing school while raising Emily. She’d built a fragile, hard-won stability. Coming back to Cedar Grove was supposed to give them both a safe haven.
Not this. Not him.
Not the man who had broken her heart so thoroughly five years ago, only to reappear just as she was starting to breathe freely again.
Her phone buzzed on the porch railing. Lily snatched it up, frowning at the unknown number. She hesitated before answering.
“Hello?”
Silence. Then—
“Lily.”
Her heart stopped. “Ethan?”
“I need to see you,” his voice said. Low. Steady. Unyielding.
Lily gripped the railing. “Ethan, this isn’t a good idea.”
“I don’t care. We need to talk. About her.”
Her breath caught. “Emily is none of your concern.”
Another silence. Then, softer: “You expect me to believe that?”
Her pulse pounded. “I mean it, Ethan. She’s my daughter. My responsibility. That’s all you need to know.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” His voice hardened. “But I’m not going back to New York without the truth.”
The line went dead.
Lily stared into the night, her hands trembling.
The truth. The one thing she had sworn to protect. The one secret that could unravel everything.
Inside, Emily stirred in her sleep, mumbling her mother’s name. Lily closed her eyes, forcing back tears.
She had thought she was safe here. That Cedar Grove would shelter her. But Ethan Langford had always been a storm brilliant, unstoppable, and impossible to escape.
And he had just promised not to leave without answers.
Later that night, Ethan stood outside the farmhouse, his rental car parked discreetly down the lane. The windows glowed softly, shadows moving inside.
He remembered this house. He had stood on this porch once, years ago, kissing Lily under the stars, whispering promises of forever.
Now, forever felt like ashes in his mouth.
But when he saw the faint silhouette of a little girl against the curtain, small, delicate, unmistakable, his chest squeezed.
His daughter.
He was almost sure of it.
And if Lily thought she could keep him from her, she was about to learn how wrong she was.
- Writer
