Page 6 of Thankful for You

“I’m fine,” I whispered, though it was the furthest thing from the truth.

Just then, three men entered the bakery, and the atmosphere around Griff shifted immediately. There was something dark about them, something that made Griff's instincts scream to steer clear. I couldn’t quite place it, but every inch of him was on high alert. Casting a quick glance their way, he he wanted no part of whatever they were bringing with them. Without a second thought, he turned and slipped out of the bakery, leaving the unsettling energy behind him.

Right now, I wasn’t sure of anything—except that Griff’s return to Charcoal City was about to turn my world upside down.

Chapter Four

Griff

The room smelled faintly of old cigarettes and stale air, but at least the sheets were clean. I tossed my duffel bag onto the bed, ignoring the creak of the mattress as I sat down heavily. The hotel room was as rundown as I remembered, but it served its purpose. It was far enough off the beaten path that no one would think to look for me here—not the supernatural hunters, and definitely not the people I used to know in Charcoal City.

I’d been back in town less than twenty-four hours, and already the memories were creeping in like ghosts, threatening to smother me. The streets, the people, the places—it was all too familiar. Too close. Too much.

And then there was Iyonna.

The second I’d stepped into her bakery, the air had practically vibrated with her presence. That electric pulse between us—her magic, wild and untamed—had been like nothing I’d felt in years. Not since I left. But it wasn’t just the magic. It was her. She wasn’t the same girl I’d teased back in school. She’d changed, grown into herself in ways that I hadn’t expected. And now, she was asking for my help.

That was the real problem.

I leaned back on the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. I knew better than to get involved. Hell, I’d been on the run long enough to know that getting close to anyone was a mistake, especially someone like Iyonna. But there was something about the way her magic flared, the way she looked at me with equal parts frustration and trust, that made it impossible to stay away.

She needed help. And for some reason, my gut was telling me I could give it to her.

I exhaled slowly, letting my eyes close. I could feel the town around me—the hum of the ley lines beneath the city streets, the way they thrummed with energy like a living thing. Charcoal City was built on ancient power, and it was one of the reasons I’d stayed away for so long. The ley lines had always had an effect on me. Ever since I was a kid, I could sense them, feel them shift and pulse like veins of magic beneath the surface. Sometimes it was overwhelming, like standing too close to an electric fence, but other times… it was almost comforting.

And now, that power might be the only thing that could help Iyonna.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, sitting up with a groan. “What the hell are you doing, Griff?” I muttered to myself. “You should’ve stayed out of it.”

But the truth was, I couldn’t. Not with her magic spiraling the way it was. I could sense it even now, from across town— that jittery, unstable energy that kept flaring and sparking out of control. If she didn’t get a handle on it soon, it could be dangerous—not just for her, but for anyone caught in the crossfire.

The knock on the door was soft, but it sent a sharp jolt through me. My instincts kicked in, and I was up on my feet before I even realized it, my hand reaching for the knife I kept strapped to my side. But then, the scent hit me—sweet, like cinnamon and something warm, comforting. It was her.

Iyonna.

I opened the door, and there she was, standing in the dim hallway, looking more frustrated than I’d ever seen her. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot, and she was still wearing that apron from the bakery, smudged with flour. But her eyes—they were wild, almost desperate.

“I need your help,” she said, without any preamble. Her voice was strained, like she was holding it together by a thread.

I stepped aside, letting her in without a word. The second she crossed the threshold, the air seemed to hum, that electric buzz returning with a vengeance. I closed the door behind her, my mind racing. I didn’t know what I expected her to say, but the tension rolling off her was enough to make me realize this wasn’t just about a few sparks of magic. This was something bigger.

“What’s going on?” I asked, keeping my voice low. My instincts told me to be careful, to keep my distance, but there was no denying the pull between us. It was magnetic, impossible to ignore.

She paced in front of the bed, her hands tugging at the apron strings as she spoke. “I don’t know what’s happening, but my magic—it’s getting worse. Every time I try to focus, it spirals out of control. I’ve tried grounding spells, meditation, everything. Nothing works.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe as I watched her. The panic in her voice was real, and I could see the strain etched into her features. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few days,” she admitted, stopping mid-step to face me. “But today… today was bad. I broke three light fixtures, sent half a dozen pans flying across the kitchen, and nearly set the place on fire.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth despite the situation. “Sounds like a typical day in the life of a witch.”

She shot me a glare. “This isn’t funny, Griff. If I can’t control it, someone’s going to get hurt. I’m going to get hurt.”

The smile faded, and I pushed off the wall, walking toward her. I could feel her magic even now, swirling around her like a live wire. It was erratic, unstable. She was right—it was dangerous.

“You think it’s the ley lines?” I asked, keeping my tone even.

Her shoulders slumped as she sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands clenching in her lap. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never had this problem before, but… I can feel them, Griff. I can feel the energy pulling at me, like it’s trying to tear me apart.”