Page 10 of Thankful for You
The question hung between us, heavy with unspoken fears and uncertainties. But underneath it all, there was a glimmer of hope, a hint of the partnership we’d forged over the past few days.
“We work together,” I said, the words solidifying in my chest as I spoke them. “We stop them. I know the ley lines, Iyonna. I’ve spent my whole life connected to them, whether I wanted to be or not. If I can figure out where they’re tapping into the lines, we might be able to cut them off, stop the corruption.”
She raised an eyebrow, skepticism mixed with something else—determination, maybe. “And you think you can do that?”
I swallowed the weight of what I was about to ask pressing down on me. “Not alone. I can’t do it alone, Iyonna. But with you… with your magic… we might have a shot.”
She held my gaze, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought she might turn me down, might decide she couldn’t risk trusting me after everything I’d done. But then she nodded, a spark of resolve lighting her eyes.
“Fine,” she said, her voice firm. “But if you betray me, Griff, if you even think about keeping anything else from me… I’ll make sure you regret it.”
I believed her. The fierceness in her eyes, the strength in her voice—it reminded me of why I’d fallen for her in the first place, all those years ago. But this was different. This wasn’t some school crush or harmless flirtation. This was real, and it was dangerous. And somehow, that made it even harder to bear.
“I won’t,” I promised, the words carrying a weight I hadn’t felt in years. “I’m done running, Iyonna. This time… I’m here to stay.”
The anger in her gaze softened, just a fraction. And in that moment, I felt something shift between us, a bridge spanning the distance I’d created with years of silence and secrets.
The road ahead was dangerous, and we both knew it. But for the first time since I’d set foot in Charcoal City, I felt like I wasn’t facing it alone.
Chapter Seven
Iyonna
The bakery was packed. Thanksgiving was in two days, and every Charcoal City resident with a craving for pumpkin spice or apple cinnamon seemed to be lined up at my counter. But in the blur of orders, flour dust, and simmering cranberry glaze, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Griff, with his quiet intensity, his haunted gaze, and that frustrating insistence on keeping his distance. He’d tried to stay away from me, but every time he walked in, I felt the air shift, the magic in me pulsing with a spark that was hard to ignore.
I was in the middle of rolling out dough when the bell above the bakery door chimed. I knew it was him before I even looked up. Griff’s presence was unmistakable, a warm, heady thrum that settled over me like a second skin. I couldn’t help it; I glanced up, meeting his dark gaze across the room. He looked like he hadn’t slept much—dark shadows under his eyes and that tousled hair that begged for someone to run fingers through it. My fingers, apparently, because the thought lodged itself in my brain like a splinter.
“Iyonna.” His voice was low, soft, and it sent a shiver up my spine.
I forced myself to keep moving, smoothing the dough with steady hands and ignoring the flutter of nerves that erupted every time he came near me. "Griff,” I said, carefully focusing on my task. “Thought you’d be keeping a low profile?”
He shrugged, leaning against the counter, his intense gaze on my hands as they worked. “Turns out I can’t resist your cranberry pie,” he murmured, a faint smile ghosting over his lips.
A laugh bubbled out of me before I could help it. “You’ve barely been here a week, and you’re already hooked? Charcoal City really does have its charms.”
He looked at me then, and there was something in his eyes—something raw, almost vulnerable. “It does.”
The way he said it, so soft, so honest, made my breath catch. I looked away, my cheeks warming as I focused on slicing apples for the pies. His attention, so focused and so real, was overwhelming, like trying to stand under a waterfall.
“Could use a hand, you know,” I said, more to break the silence than anything.
“Happy to oblige,” he said, his voice still that low rumble. He moved around the counter, coming to stand beside me, and suddenly the space felt even smaller.
He was so close, his arm brushing against mine as he started peeling apples. I didn’t need the help—not really. I had Delilah and enough magic to whip up a whole new batch of pies in minutes. But having Griff here made the repetitive work feel… lighter. The quiet moments of flour-dusted fingers and the occasional bump of our shoulders filled the room with a warmth that didn’t come from the ovens.
“So,” I said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “are you planning on avoiding Thanksgiving, or do wolf shifters celebrate with turkey, too?”
He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, resonating in my bones. “Thanksgiving isn’t really a thing for my family.” His gaze darkened slightly. “We never were big on holidays.”
His words hung in the air between us, and I wanted to reach out, wanted to pull him from whatever memories haunted him. I cleared my throat, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, if you ever get tired of running or need an excuse to have too much pie, there’s always a spot here.”
He stilled, his gaze locking onto mine. “You shouldn’t get mixed up with me, Iyonna.” His words were quiet, barely more than a whisper. “It’s not safe. My father’s pack… they don’t forgive easily. And neither do the hunters on my tail.”
I met his gaze, my fingers itching to reach out and touch him, to make him see that I wasn’t scared. “You think I don’t know how dangerous things are? You think I’m scared?”
He looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Maybe you should be.”
We were too close, and the tension between us was thick enough to taste. I could feel the warmth radiating off him, his presence filling the space around us until it felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Every instinct in me screamed to close the distance, to take one step closer, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine.
