The Search for Lily Myers ✓

30 | Helpless

The fall had been unseasonably dry thus far, so there was something particularly soothing about watching the droplets of a gentle rainshower patter against her bedroom window. Something healing, as if the water could wash away their woes and allow them the opportunity to start anew.

Amelia wished it could ever actually be that simple. If it could, Henry would have looked less melancholic when he showed up at her apartment after he got off work. Now, he was watching her watch the rain, silently grateful for the opportunity to stretch out in her bed after being on his feet for most of the day. His fingers trailed the distance from her wrist to her elbow, then back up again. The monotony of the motion was enough to start making her drowsy, but she wasn't ready to tell him to go home yet. It was a Friday night; they were in no rush.

"You know," he murmured. "I had a realization at work. In just a few more days it'll have been a month since we went on our first date."

She felt her lips break into a smile and rolled back over to face him. "Happy almost first monthiversary."

He laughed, but Amelia was having a realization too. A realization that wasn't nearly as pleasant as his.

"I really have to introduce you to my parents."

He shrugged, or at least tried to—since he was laying on his side, only one of his shoulders really moved. "It obviously has to happen eventually, yeah."

She knew that he wasn't pushing her to do it right away, that he wasn't putting her on any sort of definitive timeline before he'd be uncomfortable that she hadn't done it yet. But if not now, then when? She was practically already friends with his parents and meanwhile hers had never even laid eyes on him. It didn't feel entirely fair to him.

"We'll do it soon," she said. "Just brace yourself to be interrogated about everything you've ever done and everyone you've ever talked to."

He grinned, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Amelia recalled that she herself still had something she wanted to ask him about. She'd wanted to get around to it earlier in the week, but the timing had never felt right—their conversations had been happening in fatigued and hurried snippets after long days of work.

"Speaking of which...can I ask you something?"

"Always," he said, but she noticed his eyebrows inch upward in confusion or concern. "What's up?"

"I was wondering..." Please don't be a mistake. "Who's Sarah?"

It wasn't quite a deer-in-headlights reaction, but it was nearly there. Henry sat up rather abruptly as more emotions than she could even process flashed across his expression all at once. He was a puzzle and she was trying to make sense of the pieces—his jaw clenched with what might have been irritation, but it didn't match the look in his eyes, which was almost...hurt?

"What?"

"I, um–" The inside of her mouth suddenly felt extraordinarily dry. "–I overheard your mom saying something to you the other day. She said something like, 'do you think you should tell her about Sarah?'"

Henry's reaction, combined with the fact that he had a very guarded look about him right now, was plenty to convince her that the situation was definitely Not Good. He lifted a hand to massage his temple for a second, as if she'd suddenly just given him a headache. Not Good.

"Can I just—what do you think she was talking about?"

To say the least, the burst of defensiveness was concerning, but she was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he had a really, really good reason to be so prickly. Regardless, she wasn't going to fall into the trap of fighting fire with fire.