Page 103 of Creeping Lily

Instead, I’ve given her space.

“Should I be scared?” she asks suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

“Scared of what?”

“Are we safe here?”

“The world’s not a safe place, Lily.”

I hear her slow inhale, the way her breath catches, the subtle drop in her shoulders that feels like resignation.

“Someone told me the same thing years ago,” she murmurs.

“Yeah?” I study her, trying to read what’s behind the words.

“Yeah.”

“That someone must’ve been smart,” I say. “You should’ve listened.”

Her eyes flick to mine, holding them just long enough for me to see something there—something old and sharp. “He is…” She pauses, the correction quick and quiet. “He was. Very smart.”

The past tense lands like a stone in my gut.Was.

“Boyfriend?” I ask.

Her laugh isn’t really a laugh—it’s closer to a scoff, bitter around the edges.

“A friend.”

“Where is your friend now?”

“Gone.”

Flat. Empty. Like she’s cut the thread of the conversation herself.

The fire crackles once in the silence that follows, but it doesn’t warm the room. Not for either of us.

I leanagainst the rough-hewn wall of the cabin, arms crossed over my chest, and watch Lily wear a path into the warped wooden floorboards. The air inside feels tight, heavy, as if the walls themselves are pressing closer. Outside, the impenetrable forest surrounds us on all sides—a living wall of black trunksand shifting shadows. It feels like it’s closing in, and judging by the way she keeps pacing, Lily feels it too.

She’s been restless ever since she mentioned her dead friend. That one sentence changed her energy entirely, like she’d ripped the bandage off a wound she’d kept hidden too long. Now she’s all agitation—short steps, fast turns, a little more edge in her voice each time she speaks.

“This is ridiculous, Titan!” Her tone spikes, sharp and cutting. She’s saying my name too often now, like she’s testing me with it. And God help me, I think I like it. “I’m going out of my mind here!”

My jaw tightens, but I don’t move. My eyes track her the way they’d follow a target—slow, steady, never losing sight. I could say something, but nothing I tell her is going to make this better. She’s going to have to ride this storm out.

Finally, I push away from the wall and close the distance between us, each step deliberate. My gaze locks on her, and I know she can feel it. It’s the kind of stare that makes most people look away. But she doesn’t.

If it weren’t for the fact that my heart starts hammering every damn time I’m close to her, I might have already locked her in the bedroom and walked out. But that heartbeat—loud, insistent—makes me do something I don’t often do. It makes me soften.

“It’s only a couple more days, Lily,” I tell her, my voice low. “Then I’ll take you home.”

Her steps falter. She tilts her head, brows pulling together in suspicion.

“What happens in two days?”

I keep my tone firm. “I need you to stop asking questions and trust me.”

Her laugh is humorless, short. “Trust you, Titan? I don’t evenknowyou.”