Chapter Three #3
“Maybe someone kept the truth because no one else would,” Lily added in a mutter.
The silence stretched for a few moments, not uncomfortable, just thick with thoughts neither of them had the energy to say out loud. Then Griff’s voice cut through it.
“Why did Bobby Ray send the letter to you?” he asked.
Lily didn’t answer right away. She stared at the empty glass on the table.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “We weren’t close. Barely spoke to each other.” She paused, then gave a tired shrug. “Maybe he thought we were kindred spirits or something. We came from the same kind of broken.”
The frustration welled up again, sharp and raw. She pushed both hands through her hair and let out a groan. “There are too many question marks. Too many dead ends. I don’t even know where to start.”
Griff stood, calm as always. “We’ll talk to Rhett Hale in the morning. First thing. But for now, you need to sleep.”
She started to protest, but he was already walking toward the hallway, motioning for her to follow. On another heavy sigh, Lily started moving and joined him when he pushed open the door to a clean, spare guest room. A simple bed, folded blankets at the foot.
“Here,” he said, opening a drawer and pulling out a soft, worn T-shirt. He handed it to her. “You can shower and change into this. I’ll toss your clothes in the wash.”
Lily blinked at him. “You don’t have to—”
“I’ve got it,” he said. “You’ll need something clean to wear in the morning.”
She looked down at her jeans and soot-streaked jacket and didn’t argue.
“There’s a bathroom through there,” Griff said, nodding to the en suite. “Toiletries in the cabinet. My foster sister stays over sometimes, so you should have everything you need.”
That surprised her, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she stepped into the bathroom, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
She exhaled slowly.
The fire might’ve taken everything she owned. But not everything she had. Not yet.
She stripped off her clothes and got into the shower.
The hot water helped, but only a little.
She didn’t linger, she stayed in just long enough to make sure she no longer smelled like smoke and ash.
She dried off and pulled on the T-shirt Griff had given her.
It hung past her knees, soft and worn and definitely his.
It smelled like soap and cedar and something she couldn’t name.
Still, she felt exposed. No underwear, no armor. Just bare legs, bare skin, and that ever-present feeling like the ground had been yanked out from under her.
She took a breath, opened the door, and stepped back into the bedroom. Griff was waiting there, leaning against the wall. His eyes flicked up as she approached, just once, but she felt the weight of his gaze all the same.
He didn’t leer. Didn’t smirk. But he looked.
And it lit something in her that had no business stirring tonight.
“Here,” she said, handing him her clothes.
Their fingers brushed as he passed them over. The touch was brief, but her skin hummed in the silence that followed.
He didn’t step back.
“You should rethink helping me,” she said, her voice low. “Whoever did this—set the fire, left that photo—wanted to scare me. It worked. And if you keep standing next to me, they’re going to come for you, too.”
Griff’s eyes locked on hers. “Good,” he said.
No hesitation. No doubt.
Lily didn’t move. Neither did he. For one suspended second, the threat outside the walls didn’t exist. Only this did. And that was somehow more dangerous.
“I’m not good at relationships,” Lily blurted before she could stop herself. The second it left her mouth, she winced. “That’s not… I didn’t mean that like I’m expecting anything.”
Griff didn’t answer right away. His mouth curved, slow and deliberate, into a smile that was all heat and quiet confidence. It hit like a punch, low, solid, no warning.
“Adrenaline junkies aren’t exactly built for relationships either,” he said.
Lily huffed out something close to a laugh, even though her cheeks were warm. “Good,” she muttered. “Glad we’re both emotionally stunted.”
“Just makes communication easier,” he added, straight-faced.
She shook her head, but the edge inside her had softened. Maybe not much, but enough. Enough to stand here, barefoot and half-dressed, and not feel like the world was ending.
The soft ping of her phone shattered the moment.
Lily jumped, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway.
She glanced down, startled to realize she was still holding her phone.
She hadn’t even felt it in her hand. Truth be told, she might’ve forgotten how to breathe with Griff standing that close, his quiet heat and non-relationship presence pulling all the air from the room.
She lifted the phone and looked at the screen. The message came from an unknown number.
And her stomach turned.
It was a photo. At first glance, it was her house. Burning. But when she looked closer, her breath caught.
It was her in the fire.
Her body, twisted in the flames. Her face, frozen mid-scream, half-obscured by smoke. Fake, but only just. The image had been doctored, manipulated, but the effect was brutal. Personal.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, motionless. Then she saw the message below the image. The warning.
Back off now, or the next time, you’ll be in the fire.
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