East had driven me to work this morning, so I had just a few blocks to walk. The weather was chilly, the misty rain that I loved. The cottage appeared in no time at all with its cheery blue paint and pretty porch. It still made me smile at the memories it held. All the times that Grams and I worked in the garden in the summertime. The front steps were swept clean—Easton’s work, and lumber was stacked flat near the porch rail, covered with a tarp to keep out any rain that might come down.
He’d been busy over here working on getting it fixed for me. Living up to his promises, showing me with actions, not words, that he cared. That meant a lot.
The back porch was completely gone, leaving only a skeleton of beams. The mudroom door had been taken off its hinges, and I could see through to where he’d gutted the kitchen. Plywood covered the floor, cabinets were gone, and the walls were stripped down to the studs. He told me this was the easy part—removing what couldn’t be saved. The rest would take time. All the drywall in the kitchenhad to be removed, along with the insulation. He’d already hauled it away. The framing and electrical work were finished yesterday. According to him, the rest was going to be a breeze.
He wasn’t here now. His truck was gone, likely up at Kipp’s property where he’d been helping build those A-frame cabins on weekends. I’d always been comfortable here, but now the silence felt thick and heavy. It felt weird being here alone, and there was a current of unease that I couldn’t quite shake.
I stepped inside, my boots leaving faint prints in the dust. The living room seemed smaller somehow, with furniture draped in sheets and my grandmother’s chair pushed against the wall. At least in here, the smell of smoke was completely gone. East had said that it sometimes lingered in the drywall, and I’d see once he took it out that he’d been right. Now it just smelled like fresh wood.
I knelt by the fireplace, brushing ash from the cold brick. I ran a hand along the mantle, fingertips tracing the carved initials Grams had etched there decades ago: N.M. and F.M. Nora Merrick and Frank Merrick. When she’d shown me, she’d taken the time to add mine next to theirs.
My father hadn’t even been a fixture here in the house where I knew he’d grown up. He was a stranger even here. I stood, brushing dust from my jeans, and moved toward the door. My hand had just reached the knob when gravel crunched outside. Tires rolling slowly as I stepped outside.
My stomach went tight.
It wasn’t East’s truck. The sound was wrong. Through the window, a figure moved between the trees. Tall. Broad. Familiar in the worst way.
Derek.
He looked different from the last time I saw him. He appeared more worn out. His jawline was still the same, but his eyes were darker and more untamed. He had that restless energy he used to get when he was trying to charm his way into something — the kind that made you want to step back.
When he saw me, his mouth curved into something that was all teeth. “Well,” he said, voice smooth and oily as he came closer. “Didn’t think you’d still be haunting the place.”
My hand clenched around my phone, and every muscle in my body went rigid. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.” He spread his hands, as if this were casual. This was one of Derek’s tricks. He liked to make it sound like he was doing me favors and checking on me. As if he hadn’t just asked what I was doing here. Total gaslighting move. “It’s been rough, hasn’t it?” His tone became conciliatory, as if he were upset for me. “The fire, the cops sniffing around. Word is that Holt is rebuilding for you. Fast, too. Always liked a man who gets his hands dirty.” His eyes slid over me, deliberate, making my skin crawl. “You always were a little whore.”
My pulse hammered, but I didn’t move. “You should leave. The police are going to be notified.”
Briggs had hooked them up. That’s what he’d said, sothey should be letting the station know that Derek was here.
He laughed, soft and dangerous. “Always so cold. You used to be sweeter.” He ran a thumb over his lip and gave a suggestive chuckle. “I remember …”
“Get off my property.”
“Your property?” He stepped closer, the mud sucking faintly under his boots. “You sure about that, Lila? Because rumor has it, things might be changing for you. You got to be an uppity little bitch.” He gave me a derisive sneer. “I know things. Heard some talk about family resurfacing. Interesting timing, isn’t it?”
My throat went dry. “How do you—” This absolute piece of shit.
He cut me off with a tilt of his head. “Come on. Don’t look so shocked. You think news doesn’t travel in Wildwood Meadows? People talk. And I listen.” He tapped a finger on his temple. “Don’t count me out, Lila-bird.”
The way he said it made my skin prickle. There was too much certainty in his tone.
He took another step forward towards the porch, closing the space between us until I could smell the faint mix of cigarettes and cheap body spray. “You really think a girl like you can keep secrets around here? Everyone’s watching you now. Waiting to see what happens next.”
My back hit the corner of the porch rail, the fresh wood biting into my palms. I lifted my chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stepping back further. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” His voice dropped, quiet, intimate. “Youshould be careful. Fires have a way of flaring back up. Especially when people poke where they shouldn’t.”
That cold, sinking feeling spread through my chest. My eyes scanned his, and I couldn’t help the reflexive swallow. I hadn’t lied to Wade. The man who had broken into my house hadn’t been Derek, but the fire being set? That could totally have been him. Not that I’d seen him, but it would have been something he’d do. Especially the version of Derek that he’d become in the last few years we were together. Hiding things, doing shady work, the hitting …
Going for bravado, I crossed my arms. “Are you threatening me?”
He smiled, and it was all teeth. “Just offering advice.”
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He looked at it, then pocketed it again, his expression twisting. “Tell Holt I said hello. You always did like playing house.” He looked across the street toward Sage’s. “And that sister of his. Yummy.”
And just like that, he smirked before walking back to his car with unhurried steps. Gravel spat under his tires as he pulled away. He grinned at me through the window and gave a smart-ass salute. What a tool.
