Chapter 2 Moving in

Chapter 3

Moving In

Narrator: Captain Elias "Eli" Ward

They say you don't really know someone until you've lived with them.

I already knew Lily Quinn.

Or at least I thought I did.

What I hadn't known was what it would feel like to walk through a half-burned building beside the woman who used to be my best friend's whole damn world. Not as a visitor. Not as a contractor. But as her husband.

Paper or not, the word still stuck in my throat.

We moved into the inn on a gray morning, the kind where the clouds hang low and the sky looks like it's been rubbed raw. Ash rode in the front seat of my truck, nose pressed to the window, tail thumping every time we passed a squirrel.

The inn rose like a skeleton from the hillside. Charred beams still scarred the east wing, but the central structure stood upright reinforced by steel scaffolding and false walls. The bones were old, but the foundation held. Kind of like the town itself.

And maybe like me. Some days.

Lily was already there, standing on the porch with her arms wrapped tight around her chest. She wasn't looking at the building. She was looking at the mountains, as if trying to remember what it used to feel like to call this place home.

She didn't turn when I parked beside her.

I climbed out, slammed the truck door, and said, "Nice morning to move into a disaster."

"That could be the tagline for our marriage," she replied, dry as Montana wind.

Ash hopped out behind me and trotted over to her. She hesitated, then reached down and scratched his ears.

"I don't usually like dogs," she said.

"He doesn't usually like people."

"Guess we're both making exceptions."

Inside, the air smelled like sawdust and old ash. The front lobby had been partially restored new hardwood floors laid over the scorched substructure, windows replaced with modern panes that didn't quite match the historic trim. It felt like a half-hearted apology from the government.

Our contractor, Hank, waved from the back hallway. "Morning, newlyweds," he called, grinning like a coyote.

I ignored him.

Lily didn't.

"We're not newlyweds," she said, walking past him with clipped steps. "We're co-project managers with a marriage license. Don't get romantic."

Hank chuckled and disappeared into the tool room.

I dropped my bag in the front room and followed Lily upstairs. The staircase creaked under our weight, but it held. She stopped at the landing, turned to the right.

"Your room's at the end," she said, nodding toward a door with a temporary plaque: ROOM A – E. WARD.

"And yours?"

"Left side." She pointed. "We're separated by a linen closet and a thick door."

"Privacy guaranteed," I said.

"I expect boundaries, Eli."

I looked at her, tired already. "I'm not here to make you uncomfortable."

She nodded once. "Good."

We split off like ghosts. Like people who knew the geography of one another's pain too well to get lost again.

My room was plain. Clean enough, but bare. A twin bed, desk, dresser. No personal touches. A government-supplied cot with four walls.

I dropped my duffel by the bed and sat down hard, listening to the silence settle in. Ash jumped up beside me and sighed. We both did.

"Hell of a honeymoon," I muttered.

He rolled onto his side and kicked me in the ribs.

By noon, we'd unpacked enough to function. I found Lily in the shared kitchen organizing mugs and dry goods. She labeled everything, like she was trying to impose order on a life that hadn't offered her any in years.

I opened the fridge. It was empty, save for a gallon of milk and a lone bottle of hot sauce.

"We should go into town," I said. "Stock up."

She didn't look up. "I already made a list."

Of course she had.

She handed me a sheet of paper with her handwriting neat, precise, emotionless.

"Separate shopping trips or together?" she asked.

I raised a brow. "Afraid the townsfolk will talk?"

"They already are."

"Let them."

She paused, fingers tightening around the ceramic cup in her hand. Then she shrugged. "Fine. Together."

We rode into town in silence.

Iron Hollow's main street hadn't changed much since I was a kid. The general store still had the squeaky door, the soda fridge that hummed like it might explode any second, and the same chalkboard outside:

REBUILD TOGETHER. STRONGER TOGETHER.

Lily walked ahead of me with the basket, moving quickly and efficiently like this was a recon mission. Canned goods, rice, coffee, protein bars. I followed her, grabbing a few things off the list, adding a few off it beef jerky, dog treats, and a six-pack of the cheap beer nobody likes to admit they drink.

She saw it and raised a brow. "You still drink that swill?"

"Didn't realize we were monitoring each other's consumption habits now."

"We're married," she said. "I get to judge."

I smirked. "I'll add it to the terms of our contract."

We reached the checkout just in time to be ambushed.

"Lily Quinn!" A high-pitched voice broke the air like a firecracker.

We both turned.

Mrs. Weatherly, the town gossip queen, came hustling toward us with her arms wide and her phone already out like she was mid-livestream. "I just knew it was true! Back in town and married to Iron Hollow's own war hero!"

Lily stiffened. "It's a working partnership, actually."

"Oh, honey, you don't have to explain! Everyone's talking. So romantic. Tragedy, redemption, rebuilding it's just like a Hallmark movie! Are you two registered anywhere yet? I make incredible bundt cakes."

I stepped between her and Lily, subtly steering the cart forward. "Thanks, Mrs. Weatherly. We're good on bundt cakes."

She leaned in, whispering like it was a secret. "Don't let her go this time, Eli. She's a good one."

Then she winked and vanished.

Outside, Lily exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for hours.

"This was a mistake."

"The shopping trip?"

"The whole thing."

I loaded the bags into the truck. "It's only a year."

"That's a long time to pretend."

"You said it yourself. It's just business."

She closed her door harder than necessary

That night, I sat in the common room with Ash at my feet, watching the fire in the new wood stove flicker against the fresh logs. The walls still smelled faintly of smoke, even after all this time. Some things you just can't wash out.

Lily passed behind me with a cup of tea. She paused at the edge of the room.

"This place doesn't feel like home yet," she said.

"Give it time."

She hesitated. "Do you ever think about him?"

My stomach tightened.

"Every day."

She nodded. "Me too."

Then she disappeared down the hallway without another word.

I didn't follow.

Later, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Ash curled against my side. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked. Pipes groaned. The sound of water running echoed briefly through the old bones of the inn.

We were living together now.

Married. Legally.

I still hadn't figured out what to say to her that wouldn't make things worse.

But we were here. Breathing the same air. Sleeping under the same roof.

And somehow, that was the beginning.

Even if it didn't feel like one yet.