(Slight trigger warning?)
I quickly grab the washcloth from the counter and throw it away before Nate sees the little bit of blood on it and starts a whole interrogation.
"Mom said you weren't going to be back until Friday."
When I turn around, Nate crosses his arms, looking at me weirdly. "Grace had to return to work early, so I took the next flight out. I thought I may as well spend the fourth with my family."
"Oh."
"Where is everybody? Mom told me Aunt Leah and Uncle Dom finally arrived this morning."
I start cleaning up the kitchen, desperately wanting to avoid this interaction. "At the drive-in. They're playing Casablanca tonight."
"And you're here? ... With Grayson? ... Alone?" He pauses after every part, his brotherly gaze on.
"Yeah." He's putting me on the spot, and I can't think of a good enough lie that quick.
"Seriously? Liam didn't cut it? You had to go after the serial killer's son?"
"What?" I ask, placing a fork into the sink. "We're just friends, Nate. It's not that big of a deal."
He scoffs. "Do friends look flushed when someone else walks into the room? I wasn't born yesterday, Layla."
I walk up to him. "It's not what you think. Can you please stay out of it?"
"You should stay away from him. Trust me. He's not the kind of guy you want to be around."
"Thanks for the advice. But you're severely misreading this. Nothing is going on."
Nate sighs. "If you say so."
He walks back towards the front of the house, and I exhale a breath of relief. The last thing I need is Nate bringing this up to our mom and Hale when Grayson and I don't even know what the hell this is.
I realize I should probably beat it back to the drive-in before anyone starts to wonder where I've gone.
— — —
It's midnight. Exactly midnight. I should be sleeping, but I can't. Tomorrow the whole family is heading off to the beach for the day to relax by the ocean and watch the Fourth of July fireworks at night.
According to Grandma, we're supposed to be up and at it by at least seven, but I'm not even slightly tired. I'm wide awake.
Something comes over me, and I grab my phone from my nightstand, which is currently in a state of chaos. My lip balm, hand cream, extra jewelry, a water bottle full of ice-cold water, and the book I'm currently reading are scattered over it. I need to clean my room.
I find Grayson's contact and hover my thumb over the text icon.
I should lock my screen and put my phone away. Instead, I click the text icon and type out a text.
Hi.
Then I hit send and toss my phone to the other side of my bed.
What am I doing? He's probably asleep. Oh well, no going back now.
The device buzzes. I quickly snatch it up from my sheets.
Grayson: Hands? Is this you?
I smile to myself.
Layla: No. It's actually your stalker.
Grayson: Cool. I've always wanted to have a stalker.
I'm trying to think of a response when another text rolls in.
Grayson: Come to my room. I want to show you something.
I feel a slight flutter of butterflies in my stomach.
Layla: No way, creep.
Grayson: You're annoying as hell. Now get your ass over here.
I set my phone down on the edge of my nightstand and step out into the dark hallway. The house is quiet. I'm trying to be light on my feet as I pad through the upstairs floor to Grayson's room. When I arrive, his door is closed, but his light is on.
I knock lightly.
A few seconds later, Grayson opens the door. "What are you doing here, creep? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He smiles, his voice quiet.
I roll my eyes, quietly laughing as I push past him into his room. His duffel bags are off by his closet, and his sheets are rumpled as if he was lying there moments ago. The rest of the room looks pretty much the same as it did before he got here.
I feel a light draft coming from his window, which is wide open.
"What did you want to show me?" I ask.
He clicks the door shut softly and strides across the room to the open window. "Come here," he says, sitting down on the ledge.
I follow him and stand in front of the window. He points to the sky, and I gasp, seeing it immediately. "It's Ursa Major."
Grayson smiles as I sit beside him on the ledge, my knees brushing his. I stare out the window awhile, enjoying the night air and Grayson's company.
"I'm going to Nevada for a few days," he says. When I look at him again, he's watching me, and the smile has faded.
"Do you have family there?" I ask, fiddling with the hem of my shorts.
Grayson nods. "Yeah. My dad."
I try to hide my surprise. "You decided?" I was still under the impression that I would have some convincing to do.
He nods again. "David offered to go with me."
I can't hide my surprise with that one. "Really? Wow."
"Hale wanted to, but he's busy with the wedding, so I told him I would just go alone. I wanted to go alone anyway, but David swooped in and offered."
I lean back, resting on the frame of the window. That must have gone down while I was upstairs reading when we returned from the drive-in. "Are you taking him?"
"He's adamant. He might have even packed a bag already. But I usually like doing things on my own."
I stare out of the window again. "It wouldn't hurt to take him with you. My grandpa is a treasure to have around when it comes to tough situations."
I hold back a gasp when Grayson's finger touches the bruise on my knee. The pain has completely subsided, and the bruise has started to turn yellow, but something inside of me jolts at his touch.
He traces it, the soft tip of his finger grazing my skin. "I don't doubt it."
"What made you want to go?" I ask, trying to hide the fact that I'm losing my breath.
Grayson exhales, pulling his hand back, and I wish he didn't. "I definitely don't want to go. But I'm going because I know I should. Something must be up if he wants to see me after all this time." Then he shrugs. "And I guess I am a little curious, too."
"When do you leave?"
"Thursday evening."
"How long will you be gone for?"
A smile slides over his lips. "Why, Hands? You gonna miss me?"
"So much." I slap a hand to my heart, all dramatic. "I don't know how I will possibly survive without you."
Grayson chuckles, nudging my knee with his.
I look out of the window again without thinking anything of it when I see a masked figure on the street, dressed in all black, staring right into the window. I leap up in surprise, taking a few steps away from the window in shock.
"What the hell?"
Grayson looks at me, confused. "What happened?"
I return to the window and look again, but the person is gone. Did I imagine that? No. I know what I saw.
"Someone was just standing there on the street, watching us."
Grayson swiftly gets up from the ledge, his once calm demeanor becoming serious. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Then the doorbell rings. Once. Twice. A nervous feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
"Go to your room and lock your door," Grayson says, a completely different person than he was mere moments ago.
The sound of a loud banging drifts upstairs. Someone is beating on the door. My heart starts to race, and Grayson storms to his bedroom door, swinging it open.
I'm following him, hot on his heels, as he walks through the upstairs floor and down the staircase.
The banging has stopped, and an eerie quiet sits heavy in the air. Grayson whips the door open as I stand by the stairs, my hands shaking.
No one is there.
"What the fuck?"
I cross the foyer to look at what Grayson is looking at. I almost gag. A raccoon's dead carcass lies on the ground next to a piece of paper that's being weighed down by a large rock covered in blood.
Grandpa is suddenly next to us. Of course, he is. He's always slept lightly. "What?" Then he pulls both of us back by our shoulders. "No one touches anything. I'm going to call the police."
Grayson and I sit down on the stairs, and I can't help but feel nauseous. Poor Raccoon. Who would do something like that?
"Do you think it was Diego?" I ask, my throat dry.
Grayson shakes his head. "No way."
"Noah?"
Grayson shrugs at that. James apologized for whatever reason earlier tonight, so it wouldn't make much sense for him to do something like this.
One by one, the whole family floats down the stairs, each curious about what the hell is going on—first Grandma, then Hale, then Mom, and now Nate.
The police arrive quicker than I expect and immediately start to take pictures of the scene in front of the door. The note stays there, underneath the bloody rock.
"Hello, I'm Officer Brooks," a tall, burly officer says, walking over to us. "You guys want to tell me what happened tonight?"
"Me or her?" Grayson asks.
"Preferably both. You can go first, Mr Wallace."
"You can call me Grayson."
Officer Brooks smiles slightly. He might be one of the good guys who sees Grayson as more than who his father is. Meanwhile, Hale is hovering, leaning on the railing of the stairs. I assume he's trying to listen in.
"Layla said she saw someone standing outside of the window. When I got up to look, we heard the banging. I came downstairs to check, and that display was in front of the door. No one was outside."
The police officer jots down the notes in his notepad. His eyebrows furrowed in focus.
"Perimeter's clear!" An officer calls out from the front door.
"I'm going to need you to be a little more specific. Which window?"
Grayson runs a hand through his hair, and I notice how it shakes slightly. If Hale weren't watching us like a hawk, I would hold Grayson's hand tight. Police questioning must dredge up some bad memories.
"The one in my room. We were looking at the constellations when Layla noticed the person."
"Where does the window face?" Brooks asks.
"The front of the house."
Officer Brooks nods, jotting that down. "Okay, Layla, your turn. What did this person look like?"
I clear my throat. "Um ... they were dressed in all black. Black hoodie, black jeans, and a black ski mask covering their face."
"Do you think you could give any descriptions of their build?"
I shake my head, unsure. "They were a little far, and I only saw them briefly."
"Okay. Hold tight." Officer Brooks flips his notepad shut and smiles before walking off.
Then another officer walks swiftly toward Grayson. "You may want to look at this," he says, holding the sheet of paper with a gloved hand. There's a blood stain on the bottom left corner.
I stand behind Grayson and read the note. Oh, dear.
-
(Have a good holiday weekend whether you're celebrating the fourth or Canada Day here in Canada! I hope you enjoy this chapter, don't forget to vote! It means the most to me ;) And lastly, thank you all for 3K reads. This book is also #1 right now for summer?? Whatttt? Thank you, happy reading, and have a great weekend wherever you are!)