7. Lyra

7

LYRA

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the clock on the wall. Any minute now, Waylen would be pulling up to take me to lunch. My stomach was already tying itself into knots. I sighed, smoothing a few stray hairs from my face. I couldn't believe I'd agreed to go out with him.

What was I thinking?

I'd spent so much time convincing myself that getting involved with him was a mistake, yet the second he asked me out, I said yes.

This was definitely a bad idea.

"Ready for lunch with Waylen?" Granny's voice pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.

She stood in the doorway, her eyes accessing me.

"You knew about that, huh?" I asked, even though I wasn't surprised.

She was wise beyond her years and observant as could be.

"Of course I did, dear. I know everything that goes on around here."

"Yeah, well." I smoothed my hands over my thighs as if the motion could soothe away the nervous tension building inside me. "I'm not sure agreeing to lunch with him was a good idea."

She crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside me. "Why not? Waylen seems like a nice young man—attractive, too."

I chuckled. "He is, but it's complicated," I muttered, knowing she wouldn't understand.

It wasn't just that I was worried he might distract me from the cabin, the business, and taking care of her. There was also something about Waylen I couldn't quite figure out—something that made me both wary of him and drawn to him at the same time.

"Sweetheart, everything's complicated if you overthink it," Granny said, tapping my knee. "Sometimes you've got to let yourself enjoy the moment for what it is."

I met her gaze, feeling warm and fuzzy. She'd always had a way with words.

Was she right? Was I overthinking this?

"What's holding you back?" she asked. "Name one good reason."

"One? I can name a few," I insisted with a chuckle. "The garden beds, the business, taking care of you…"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Nonsense. The beds are looking better than they have in years, thanks to Waylen. The business is doing fine. And as for me, well, there's no need to worry about me." She grasped my hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You deserve to have a little fun, dear. Don't let your responsibilities weigh you down so much that you forget to live."

I was about to argue, but the rumble of a truck in the distance silenced me. My heart skipped a beat as I glanced out the window, spotting Waylen's truck coming to a stop in front of the cabin.

Another wave of nerves hit me hard.

Granny gave my hand another gentle squeeze and then stood. "Go have a nice lunch. Relax. And don't worry about a thing, I'll be here when you get back. Everything will be. Nothing's going to come crashing down if you take a break for yourself, sweetheart."

I hesitated for a moment, but knew she was right.

"Okay," I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender as I stood.

"I mean it." She gave me a stern look, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Have fun and relax some."

"I will."

"Good. Now go," she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. "Don't keep that poor boy waiting."

With one last deep breath, I stepped into the hall. A knock sounded at the front door, causing my heart to do a little flip-flop inside my chest. I opened the door, and there was Waylen, standing on the porch with that easygoing grin of his. My breath caught in my throat as I took him in. He was dressed simply in a clean, fitted shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and a pair of jeans that had seen better days but somehow made him look even more ruggedly handsome. His hair was tousled, as if he hadn't bothered to tame it, but it only added to his charm.

"Hey," he said, his voice warm and smooth. "You ready to go?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "Yeah."

My owl stirred, reacting to him in a way that I still didn't fully understand, but I didn't shove her away or ignore her this time. Instead, I let her be.

"You look great," he said, his eyes lingering on mine.

My cheeks heated. "Thanks," I managed to say, surprised at how much I liked hearing those words from him.

"Your chariot awaits," he said with a playful grin while gesturing to his truck as I stepped out onto the porch with him.

I chuckled and then started toward the passenger side. Waylen beat me to the door, moving to open it for me. It was a sweet gesture, one that had me feeling special in a way I hadn't felt in a while. As I climbed inside, I tried to ignore the way my pulse quickened at the smell of his cologne lingering in the cab. When he slid behind the wheel, he glanced at me, flashing a smile that caused butterflies to flutter through my lower stomach. There was an undeniable chemistry between us, something that felt almost electric. It sparked and crackled through the air unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

How had I tried to ignore this for so long?

Waylen cranked his truck to life, and my owl settled in the center of my chest, feeling cozy and content with him being so close. I found myself relaxing, too.

As we drove toward town, I stole a glance at Waylen, searching for the right words to start a conversation. Not that I needed to say anything. The steady hum of the engine filled the space between us, but it wasn't awkward—more like a quiet moment that didn't need to be rushed.

If that made any sense at all.

Even so, there was a pull to talk to him, despite how little we'd spoken. I wanted to hear his voice. My owl did too, feeling a comfort from it that I couldn't quite explain but understood because it had the same effect on me.

"So," I said. "Think you'll have the garden beds tamed in a couple of days?"

Waylen chuckled, his eyes still on the road. "Honestly? That would be a challenge, but I like a good challenge. Call me crazy, but I think the garden has a mind of its own. It feels like it's testing me."

"I'd believe that." I grinned. "Granny has always said the plants have their own personalities."

"She seems like she knows what she's talking about," he said with a nod. "She's sharp, you know?"

"Definitely," I agreed, feeling a wave of affection for her flood me. "She's been through a lot and still manages to keep her sense of humor. I'm not sure I could do the same in her shoes."

Waylen cast a quick glance my way. "You're tough. I haven't known you long, but I know that much about you. As for me, I may have a sense of humor, but it's hard to tell when I'm being funny or just making a fool of myself." He chuckled, but I could tell it was a valid worry of his.

"You're funny," I said, meaning it.

He tossed another quick glance at me, his brow arched. "You think so? Sure, could have fooled me. Sometimes I swear you want to slap me."

"I'm not used to being around someone who jokes around as much as you do, that's all. Plus, I have a resting bitch face. It's not my fault."

He laughed—this time it was a bold, deep, belly laugh that warmed me. "I wasn't going to say anything, but…"

I slapped him on the arm but was unable to hide my smile. "Funny."

"So, how did you end up living with your grandmother?" he asked, surprising me.

It was almost a blow to the gut. Not that I was embarrassed to be living with her, but because I was embarrassed to admit how things had fallen apart for me a few months ago.

"I fell on my butt and landed back here, to be honest," I said as he came to a stop sign.

He didn't touch the gas right away. Instead, he kept his foot on the brake and glanced at me. I could feel the intensity of his stare pulling me in. Shifting to glance at him, I noticed genuine concern filling his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said as everything about him softened with a tenderness that surprised me. "Can I ask what happened?"

I shifted my gaze out the windshield, trying to steady my emotions as I figured out where to start from.

"The nonprofit I worked for as a program coordinator cut my position suddenly and I couldn't afford to live in the city anymore," I said, straight and to the point.

"That sucks," he replied, sounding genuinely upset and sympathetic for me, as he pressed the gas again.

"Yep, that about sums it up. I put applications in everywhere I could think of but couldn't find anything." A long sigh escaped me. "I loved my job. Organizing events, managing the amazing volunteers, and creating programs that I felt made a positive impact on the community were all things I freaking loved doing. I thought what I did was a necessity to the place, but that turned out to be not true."

"But your grandma needed you." It was a statement, not a question. There was a sense of purpose tacked onto it.

One I was grateful for.

"Yeah, she did." I glanced at him again, and for the first time, I saw him—truly saw him.

There was more to Waylen than met the eye.

"Do you like working in the garden and on the business side of things with her as much as you did working for the nonprofit?"

I didn't even have to think about it. "Yeah."

"Then it all worked out," he said, cracking a grin. "You're exactly where you're supposed to be."

"I didn't expect you to say that."

A smirk twisted his lips. "There's more to me than bad jokes and muscle, you know." He tossed a wink my way.

"I'm starting to see that," I said, feeling the warmth in my chest spread as my owl fluffed her feathers, perking up.

She liked him and I was beginning to think I did too.

When we pulled into a parking spot in front of Mariam's Diner, I realized I was more at ease than I had been in days. Waylen had a way of making the world seem a little less heavy, and for that, I was grateful.

"Here we are," he said, turning to me with a playful smile. "Ready for the best pie in town?"

"For lunch?" I asked.

"No, but with lunch."

"Okay," I replied, smiling back.

He jumped out of the truck and circled around to open my door. I stepped out, and we walked together toward the diner's double doors. Before I could reach them, Waylen darted ahead to open the door again, and I realized my cheeks ached from smiling so much.

He was such a gentleman.

I liked that about him.

As we stepped inside Mariam's Diner, the scent of fries and savory herbs filled my nose. The lunch rush had just passed, so it was quiet, with only a few other customers scattered around.

Waylen led us to a table near the back, an easy smile never wavering from his face.

A brown-haired waitress appeared with a notepad in hand once we'd seated ourselves, placing laminated menus in front of us. "Hey, I'm Mia. I'll be your server. What can I get y'all to drink?"

Waylen tensed beside me, his hand tightening into a fist before he quickly masked it by resting his elbow on the table. "Uh, chocolate shake," he said, though his voice was a little off, not quite as casual as it had been moments before.

I glanced up from my menu, catching the way his eyes flicked to Mia and then darted away, like he was forcing himself not to look too long. My brow furrowed.

What was that about? Was it because she was a shifter?

I could sense her animal, but didn't know what she was.

"I'll have a vanilla shake and a water, please." I flashed her a smile before shifting my attention back to Waylen.

"Great. Be right back with those shakes," the waitress said before heading to the kitchen.

Waylen leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. His usual playful smirk appeared, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted since we sat down.

"You surprised me," he said. "I wasn't expecting you to order a shake, too."

"I surprised myself," I admitted, though my mind wasn't on the drinks anymore. I wasn't sure if I should push him, though. "I thought you said we were having pie for dessert, not shakes."

He chuckled, but it sounded forced. I tried to brush it off, but that flicker of tension, the way his whole demeanor had shifted when Mia showed up, gnawed at me.

Something was off.

"We're having both." He grinned.

Mia came back a few minutes later with our shakes and my water. Waylen stiffened again as she set our shakes down, his hand briefly clenching around the cup before he relaxed it. I took a pull from the straw, the creamy vanilla instantly soothing, though my thoughts were still snagged on the way he'd reacted to Mia.

"Good?" Waylen asked, his eyes locked on me, trying to act like everything was normal.

"Very," I muttered, but I couldn't quite shake the feeling that something had shifted between the moment Mia had appeared and now. I kept it to myself, letting the sweetness of the shake distract me for a moment.

"Ready to order?" Mia asked, her pen poised and ready, not seeming to notice the tension that still hovered faintly between Waylen and me.

I nodded. "I'll take a grilled chicken sandwich with no mayo and a side salad instead of fries, please."

"Okay," she said, jotting my order down before glancing at Waylen. "And for you?"

Waylen hesitated for a second, his eyes darting toward Mia before settling back into that casual smirk he wore so well. "A cheeseburger and fries, please."

"Coming right up," she said with a smile before heading back to the kitchen.

The moment she was out of sight, it was like a weight lifted off the air, and Waylen leaned back in his chair, his chocolate shake in hand. "Grilled chicken, huh?" he teased, the tension seeming to fade as quickly as it had appeared. "You're one of those healthy eaters, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes playfully, trying to shrug off the strange moment. If he didn't want to talk about it, then neither did I. "Not all the time, but I try."

"Fair enough. But I'm telling you, once you try Mariam's pie, you might change your mind about that healthy stuff."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'll believe it when I taste it."

"So?" he asked, leaning forward, curiosity in his eyes. "What's the most exciting thing you've ever done?"

"Wow, okay. Good question." I thought for a moment, tapping my finger against the table. "Honestly? Moving to the city by myself. I thought that place would eat me alive right away. It didn't. At least not for a while." I frowned.

Waylen shook his head. "It didn't. Not at all. It might have helped shape you, but it didn't eat you alive," he said. "Change can be scary, but sometimes it's what we need to grow."

I blinked. He was smarter than I'd ever given him credit for—probably smarter than he gave himself credit for, too.

"That's surprisingly insightful of you," I said.

He grinned. "Thank you."

"What about you?" I asked, turning the question back on him. "What's the most exciting thing you've ever done?"

"Hmm," he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, looking thoughtful. "Sitting here with you tops anything I've ever done."

I rolled my eyes, but the hint of a smile still pulled at the corners of my lips. His answer had been flattering. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He shrugged, his adorable grin growing.

Our food arrived then, and we dug in, the conversation continuing to flow easily between bites. Despite the lightness in our talk, I couldn't help but notice the way Waylen's eyes flicked toward Mia every now and then, his body tensing slightly each time she approached. It was subtle, but I picked up on it—enough to make me wonder what was going on in his head.

I wondered for a split-second if she was an ex, but she didn't seem to have the same reaction to him that he had to her. Honestly, she didn't seem to know him besides from this place. That was enough to have me shaking off my unease as best I could.

Once we finished our meals, Mia came back with a knowing smile.

"Now, who's ready for pie?" she asked, as though she knew that was what Waylen had been waiting for all along.

Maybe she did.

Waylen glanced at me expectantly, raising an eyebrow, though his gaze briefly shifted in Mia's direction again. The tension from earlier crept back, but he quickly masked it. "What do you say? Ready to experience the best pie in town?"

"Absolutely."

Mia returned moments later with two slices of key lime pie. I couldn't deny it—this was the best pie I'd ever had. The crust was flaky, the filling sweet and slightly tart. I closed my eyes, savoring it.

"You were right," I said, opening my eyes to find him watching me with a satisfied grin, though I noticed the brief flicker of something else—something unsettled that I couldn't quite place. "This is amazing."

"Told you," he replied, his gaze holding mine a little longer than necessary.

The moment stretched between us, and the diner seemed to fade away. My heart pounded in my chest, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me right here, in the middle of Mariam's Diner while we were eating pie.

However, as quickly as the moment came, it passed.

Waylen leaned back in his chair, breaking the spell, but the subtle tension in his movements returned. As Mia passed by, he shifted again, his shoulders stiffening slightly.

We both returned to our pie, though the almost-kiss lingered in my thoughts. When we were done, Waylen pulled out his wallet and slid a few extra bills onto the table for Mia. It was a generous tip, and I couldn't help but notice the gesture. He caught me watching and shrugged with a soft smile.

"She deserves it," he said, before paying the bill, and then we headed back to his truck.

The drive to the cabin was filled with easy conversation, but I couldn't shake the strange tension from lunch or the almost-kiss. Mia had seemed friendly enough, but there had been something off about the way Waylen stiffened around her, like he was on edge. Was it her? Or was I overthinking things again?

"You know," Waylen said, pulling me from my thoughts as he turned down my driveway. "Between the food and the company, that was the best lunch I've had in ages."

Warmth spread through my chest, but the earlier tension lingered in the back of my mind. "It was nice."

"Nice?" He shot a quick glance my way. "Ouch."

"What? Nice is good," I said, studying his profile as he continued to drive. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, though I couldn't quite place it.

Unease? Guilt?

"It's a friend zone word," he teased, his lips quirking up. "I'd rather you have said you had a good time, too. At least that's open-ended and I can interpret it as I see fit."

"I had a good time, too," I said, playfully rolling my eyes, though a part of me still wondered about his reaction to Mia.

"Nice." He winked, and despite everything, I burst into a fit of laughter.

As we pulled up to the cabin, a blend of excitement and hesitation washed over me. I didn't want our time to end, and neither did my owl. But lunch was all I'd agreed to, all that had been offered.

I watched Waylen as he climbed out of his truck and rounded the front, but something about his movement made my pulse spike.

Something was wrong.

His relaxed posture from a second ago had vanished, replaced by rigid tension. His eyes darted around the yard, sharp and focused, in a way that signified his eagle was close to the surface. I watched as his jaw tightened and his steps slowed with caution.

When he reached my door, he didn't open it. Instead, he locked eyes with me through the window. "Stay in the truck," he murmured, his voice low and controlled. "Something's off."

Alarm buzzed through me, causing my owl to move closer to the surface.

"What do you mean?" I pressed, my pulse quickening.

"Just stay put," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

Thoughts of Granny filled my head and worry for her overpowered any desire to follow his instructions.

I popped the door open and slid out, my owl stirring uneasily within me. She could sense the same wrongness in the air as Waylen had.

"Lyra, don't—" he insisted, his voice sharp.

Ignoring his protest, I headed past him toward the cabin. Every step felt heavy as my mind raced, fearing the worst—something was wrong with Granny.

"Lyra, stop!" Waylen caught up to me in a few quick strides, his hand closing around my arm and forcing me to a standstill. "I'm serious—something's not right. You need to get back in the truck."

"I can't," I said. "I need to check on my grandmother."

"She's inside. I'll check on her, but you need to go back to the truck." His eyes softened, filling with concern for me that I didn't understand. Did he know what was going on here? What the strange dark coldness was that had overcome the place? "Please."

I hesitated, torn between the need to check on Granny and the urgency in Waylen's voice.

In the end, my stubbornness won out.

"I can't. I need to see that she's okay," I said, pulling my arm free from his grasp and rushing toward the cabin.

Please be okay .

Waylen didn't argue. Instead, he closed the gap between us, until he was right at my side. The sense of unease twisting in my gut grew the closer I drew to the cabin. Something was terribly wrong here—I could feel it in my bones.

The air felt cooler, heavier, thicker—suffocating.

I held my breath as we neared the front door. Waylen froze, reaching out for my arm. I looked at him, wondering what he'd picked up on. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, sharp and alert. Every muscle in him seemed coiled tight, causing my heart to hammer inside my chest.

"Stay behind me," he ground out.

I nodded, even though he wasn't looking at me.

He stepped forward and opened the door. My heart leaped into my throat. Granny stood in the living room—her eyes glazed over—with a man I didn't recognize standing behind her.

"Granny?" I whispered, stepping forward despite Waylen's warning to stay behind him.

She didn't respond, but the man behind her smirked.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice trembling while my owl rushed forward. "What did you do to my grandmother?"

The man's eyes glinted with dark amusement, sickening me to my core. "Ask Waylen. He can tell you all you need to know," he replied, his tone chilling.

I turned to Waylen, confusion and fear twisting inside me. I knew he'd been hiding something.

I knew it.