Whisper in the Rain

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

GRACE

I couldn't go straight to Miles' house with him and Cole. There were chores that needed to be done and the last thing I wanted was Martha on my back. I waited until the kitchen was clean and everyone was settled in front of the television before I slipped out the back door and headed down the street.

I worked on breathing deeply and centering myself while I walked. I couldn't afford another slip up around Miles. Not again.

Miles was learning how to read me, how to distinguish my mood based on my body language- my face, my smile, the subtle slope of my shoulders, the rise and fall of my voice... he knew it all. He knew me.

He knew I lied.

But I couldn't tell him about my dream. I couldn't shrug off a portion of my fear for him to carry. That just wasn't right.

Neither is keeping secrets from him...

I shook my head, hoping to dispel the angelic voice in my ear urging me to do the right thing. Sometimes the right thing isn't the best thing, and I had Miles' best interest at heart. He would just have to stay in the dark until I figured out what in the hell was happening to my body. And my mind, for that matter.

I was starting to see blood everywhere. On the floors, on my clothes, in my books, flowing out of my locker... Always just a glimpse. Just quick, evil figments of my imagination. But they were enough to set me on edge.

I told Miles I'd be over around six, early enough to have dinner with his family but late enough we wouldn't have time to ourselves. Luckily, Tammy helped me out enough I managed to sneak out around four thirty.

Since I was early, I wasn't surprised when no one answered the door. I figured Meg and Dean were still at work and Miles was up in his room hanging out with Cole, so I let myself inside.

The downstairs level was empty so I hopped upstairs, only to find every room vacant as well. I roamed the halls, calling out for Miles, but only silence greeted me. When I made my way into the kitchen, I noticed the door to the basement cracked just a hair. I'd never been in that part of the house, but I figured that's where the boys were, so I tip-toed down the stairs, following the light shining up from below.

As soon as I reached the landing, my eyes went wide. My jaw dropped. I sucked in a surprised breath and slowed my steps.

I expected to find plain concrete floors, unpainted drywall, boxes of Christmas ornaments- the usual basement must-haves. But this was no ordinary basement.

It was a gym. There were free weights strung haphazardly around the room, a punching bag, pull-up bar, treadmill- the works. And in the very center of the cavernous room was something I really hadn't expected.

A boxing ring.

"What the hell?"

I stepped into the light, seeking out the two male voices pinging off the walls. Once I rounded the corner, I found Cole, fists raised in front of his face, hopping around in front of Miles, who had two thick green pads strapped to his hands. Every other bounce, Cole swung and connected with a pad.

"Good! But don't get predictable!" Miles yelled.

They rounded each other, Cole grunting as he landed solid punches, over and over. Miles throwing out words of encouragement. They were completely oblivious to my presence, so I found a chair to plant my butt in and settled in for the show.

And what a show it was.

While Cole was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Miles had changed into a pair of athletic shorts. Just shorts. No shirt. Sweat trickled down his pecs, down his abs, and disappeared into the great beyond. But the draw of his athletic body wasn't what had my jaw dropping. It was the way he used it.