Becoming strangers again (Lily and Ryan) novel Chapter 142

LILY

The following morning, Ryan left for New York once again, leaving me behind because the boys needed to attend school the next day. We made a plan, though, that I would travel down with them over the weekend.

As I pulled up to the hospital, my emotions hit rock bottom. Richard, despite his imperfections, had been an exceptional father-in-law, and learning that he had been found dead in his office was a heavy blow.

Stepping out of my car, my eyes were swollen from crying all night over Richard's death. Although Ryan didn’t shed a single tear, I knew he was deeply affected. He had held me so tightly throughout the night before catching the first flight out in the morning.

“How long do I have to hold this?” a familiar voice demanded.

Blinking slowly, I gazed at the elevator, trying to shake off the fog in my mind, and that’s when it dawned on me that Amell was standing there, holding down the button to keep the doors from closing. He must have been standing there for a while, waiting patiently—or maybe not so patiently, knowing Amell.

Realizing I was holding him up, I hurried my steps, rushing to get into the elevator before he lost his temper. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled under my breath, not really looking at him. “I didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

He released the button with a dramatic sigh and then slipped his hand into his pocket, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t think you had it in you to sincerely apologize,” he said with that familiar hint of sarcasm in his voice.

I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his attitude, not today, not after everything that had happened. I chose to ignore him, not wanting to engage in another one of our usual back-and-forths. Instead, I reached into my bag, fishing out my phone to check the time. Ryan hadn’t arrived in New York yet.

Out of nowhere, Amell’s voice cut through the silence again, but this time it was softer, almost… concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone unexpectedly gentle.

I turned to look at him, genuinely surprised by his sudden show of concern. It wasn’t like Amell to ask questions like that. “I didn’t realize you had it in you to care,” I replied with sarcasm. “But I’m fine.”

He chuckled softly. "For a moment there, I thought your sassy self was back," he remarked, a hint of teasing in his tone. I decided not to respond, keeping my gaze fixed on my phone, pretending to be engrossed in something far more interesting than Amell’s antics.

He didn’t seem deterred by my silence. “You know, if you ever want to talk, you can always reach out to me. I’m a good listener,” he continued.

I shot him a sideways glance, my skepticism evident. Was he being serious right now? "And why exactly would I want to talk to you?" I asked, my tone flat and unamused.

He shrugged casually, leaning against the elevator wall. “Talking to a stranger is sometimes the best option. I’ve been told I’m a great listener and that I give pretty solid advice,” he replied with a nonchalant air, as if he were merely stating a fact.

I stared at him, dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond to this bizarre offer. Thankfully, at that moment, the elevator chimed, signaling that we had reached his floor. The doors slid open, revealing a bustling corridor, but Amell made no move to step out. He simply stood there, looking at me with that unreadable expression on his face.

“Aren’t you getting off?” I prompted, hoping to hasten his departure.

He glanced at the open door, then back at me, chuckling again. “You know where to find me if you change your mind,” he said, a playful grin spreading across his face as he finally stepped out. The doors closed behind him almost instantly, sealing me back in the elevator as it continued its ascent to my floor.

****************

Seven hours had dragged by at work, and Ryan still wasn’t answering my calls. I had tried reaching him countless times, dialing his number over and over, but each attempt ended the same way—with no answer.

I needed to know what was going on. Why wasn’t he picking up? Frustrated, I decided to try a different approach and dialed Angelo’s number instead. He answered almost immediately.

“Angelo? How is Ryan?” I blurted out, foregoing any formalities. I didn’t have the patience for small talk right now.

“He’s coping,” Angelo replied. “He’s trying to stay strong, mostly for his mother’s sake. It’s been hard on him.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. That sounded like Ryan—always the pillar, the one trying to keep it all together for everyone else. But I needed to know more. I needed to know if Richard had died of natural causes or if there was something more sinister at play.