Page 58 of Creeping Lily
“You didn’t need to come here to tell me this,” I say.
“No,” he admits. “But I needed you to hear it.”
Behind us, through the café window, I catch a glimpse of Kade approaching. My safety net. My reminder that Bentley isn’t the only one who can play this game. I lift my hand just enough to wave him off, even as every instinct in me screams to let him intervene.
Because if Bentleyisthe visitor my stalker warned me about…I need to know how he’s connected to my stalker, and what the hell he’s doing here.
“Lily?”
The sound of my name cuts through the taut air like a blade.
Justin rounds the corner, his stride steady, but his eyes… his eyes are sharp, scanning the scene in front of him. He stops just a few feet away from Bentley and me, gaze flicking between us as if he’s measuring something invisible—distance, tension, danger. I wasn’t expecting him today, and the realization lands heavy in my chest: someone from the coffee shop must have seen Bentley walk in and called him.
Justin steps closer, and the move feels both protective and territorial. Without breaking eye contact with Bentley, he threads an arm around my waist, drawing me into the solid heatof his side. His lips brush my temple, a casual gesture for anyone watching—but I can feel the way his body locks tight against mine. His attention stays pinned on Bentley, curiosity sharpening into suspicion.
“Who’s this?” His tone is easy enough, but it’s threaded with steel.
My mouth goes dry. I actually stutter, waving my hand between them like I can smooth the edges with a pathetic little gesture. Heat creeps up my neck until I’m sure my skin is glowing red.
“Ahhh… this is Bentley Walker. He’s… a family friend.”
“Family friend,” Justin repeats, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying the words on for size and doesn’t like the fit. His eyes stay on Bentley, assessing, before they cut back to me. “Funny. You’ve never mentioned him before.”
I glance toward Bentley, silently begging him to throw me a lifeline, but all I get is the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes. He’s enjoying this.
“You must be the boyfriend,” Bentley says, holding out a hand. His voice is smooth, but there’s something underneath it—something that feels like a test.
Justin doesn’t take the hand. He just stares, a cold, unblinking look that says more than any handshake could. They stand like that, the air thick with whatever’s passing between them, and I suddenly feel like the unwilling centerpiece of some silent duel.
“Okayyy,” I draw the word out, stepping between them and raising my hands as if I can physically cut the tension in half. “That’s enough testosterone for one afternoon.” I turn to Justin. “Why don’t you go inside and order our coffees?”
His jaw works, but he finally steps away, brushing past Bentley with deliberate slowness before disappearing into the café.
Bentley waits until Justin is out of earshot before speaking. “I’m in town for a few days.” He pulls out his phone. “Here’s my number.”
My phone buzzes with a text before I can even process the words. I glance down, and my stomach dips when I see his name already saved—though I never put it there.
“How do you even know my number?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intended.
“Not important.” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t intend to explain. “That’s my number. Use it.”
I’m still gaping at him when he turns away, heading toward a sleek black town car parked up the street. A chauffeur in a tailored suit steps forward to open the door. Bentley doesn’t look back before sliding inside. The car pulls away, and I’m left staring after it, my pulse an uneven rhythm. He’s a ghost online, a shadow from my past—so what the hell has he become in the years since I last saw him?
“I thought you were busy this afternoon,” I say as Justin returns, a paper cup in each hand. His timing feels too perfect to be coincidence.
“I was,” he says, eyes scanning the street, though not looking directly at me.
“Then why come to the coffee shop?”
He exhales hard, like the question itself is an accusation. His gaze shifts back to mine, lazy on the surface but watchful beneath. “I don’t know what to make of all the secrets you’re keeping, Lily.”
The words land heavy, but not because they’re wrong. My chest tightens, and for a moment, I want to tell him everything—every ugly truth I’ve been hoarding like dangerous contraband. But the truth would break things I can’t fix.
“Everyone has secrets, Justin,” I say softly. “Even you. Don’t tell me you don’t.”
Something flickers in his eyes, and I watch his throat work as he swallows down whatever answer was ready to spill. And in that pause—on this busy street with coffee cooling in my hands—I see it. The truth he won’t share with me. The one that sits between us like a live wire.
That Justin is holding back the biggest secret between us.
