Page 33 of The Bastard's Lily
“Stegosaurus,” Beau says proudly. “But it’s rainbow.”
Grimm chuckles, not missing a beat. “Love that for him.”
I should say something. To Beau. To Grimm. To Rook. But all I can do is watch as Rook closes the space between us with that quiet, lethal calm he always carried. The calm that used to make me feel so goddamn safe.
I brace myself as he gets close, not sure if I’m about to be kissed, crushed, or completely undone. But all he does is stop in front of me. Big. Warm. Familiar in all the ways that hurt the most.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low and rough like gravel softened by rain.
And I swear to God that stupid smile is still there. Like he’s seeing something worth smiling for. Something worthstayingfor. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just stands there in front of me like a choice I haven’t figured out how to make yet. Then—
“Dinner,” he says, voice a little raspier now. “Tomorrow night. Just us. We need to talk, Calla.”
I lift a brow. He doesn’t flinch.
“I wanna figure things out,” he adds. “About… all of this. About Beau. About you and me.”
The air tightens around us, but he keeps going.
“I wanna be in his life, really in it. I’ve missed out on everything, Calli. I want to be a good dad.”
Behind him, Beau’s little voice pipes up—like the universe couldn’t have timed it better. “Grimm, look! I made a rainbow T-Rex too!”
Grimm laughs, already cross-legged on the floor with a second page. “That dino looks dangerousandinclusive. Love it.”
Rook doesn’t look away from me. Not even a blink. “I’m not asking for everything at once,” he says. “Just dinner.” A pause. “Let me prove I’m here for Beau.”
I swallow, the weight of it catching in my throat. Then Grimm glances up from the floor and casually throws a wrench into the whole damn moment.
“I’ll watch the kid,” he offers. “Tomorrow night. You two go. Beau and I’ll order pizza, maybe build a pillow fort. Guy stuff.”
Beau gasps like that’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard. “YES!Can we have gummy worms and root beer, too?”
Grimm grins. “Obviously.”
I look back at Rook. He’s still waiting. Still holding that stupid gorgeous smile like he’s not sure I’ll say yes.
I sigh. “Fine.”
His whole face lights up. And I hate how easy it is to smile back. Because I already know this isn’t just dinner. It’s a fuse—lit and burning. And I’m standing way too close to the fire.
4:12A.M.|Somewherenorth of Berlin, NH
The engine hums steadily beneath me, tires chewing up the damp trail as I carve through the northern woods. Leaves flash red and gold under my headlights, kicked up in a blur behind me. The air smells like pine needles and frost that hasn’t settled yet. Fall’s bleeding in quick, but there’s no snow. Just a chill that keeps most people in bed.
But I’m not most people. I’ve got a crate of heat strapped down to the back rack and just under an hour to make the drop before the next set of side-by-sides starts ripping through these trails for sport.
This route’s not abandoned. It’s alive—locals on quads, weekend warriors, dirt kids who think the woods are theirs. But if you move quietly, know your timing, and pay the right eyes to look the other way, it works. It always has.
I kill the headlight before the next bend, letting the dark take me. The buyer’s already there, parked where the old logging road flattens out, barely visible behind a crooked birch and a wall of blackberry brambles.
No one talks. I step off the quad, my boots crunching through the frost-laced brush, and unlatch the crate. He checks inside. Metal glints under the flashlight sweep—no serials, no questions. Just like he asked. He tosses a heavy envelope my way.
"Same spot next month?" he asks, French accent thick under the hood of his words.
"We’ll see who’s watching," I mutter, already walking back to my ride.
He doesn’t push it. Just nods, climbs back into his truck, and disappears down the trail, tires silent on the wet dirt. I wait until the red glow of his taillights vanishes before I turn my quad around. The envelope rides warm in my inner pocket, heat bleeding through the fabric like it’s alive.
