I slipped my hand from his and took a deep breath as I got to my feet. “I’d hate for you to drink alone, so I’m going to see what else we have.”
Buck’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
All the alcohol in the house was already lined up on the counter since we’d started packing for tomorrow, and it only took me a moment to select a bottle of wine. Typically, it wasn’t my drink of choice, but given the day and where my thoughts were centered, it made sense. I stared at the label for a moment before grabbing the nearby corkscrew and getting to work. Once it was open, I got a glass from the cabinet and poured myself a generous serving, then swirled the yellow liquid around. Pinot Grigio. My mom’s favorite.
“This is for you, Mom,” I said to myself then took a big drink.
Someone walked into the kitchen, and I turned. Devon’s gaze was focused on me as he crossed the room, a box in hand. I didn’t look away as he set it down then headed my way. When he stopped next to me, he swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
His apology didn’t mean he’d changed his mind, but I was satisfied with it anyway. Plus, I’d meant what I said. He couldn’t stop me from doing this for my mom. No one could.
I nodded to the bottle of wine at my side. “A drink? It might help you sleep.”
He eyed the bottle for a moment, not responding. His silence made me squirm, and like when we’d first met, I found it impossible to stay quiet.
“It was my mom’s favorite. I thought I’d toast to her.”
Devon’s gaze moved back to me, and he lifted his eyebrows. “Then we should probably have everyone here.”
The gesture was more touching than I could say, and it made tears well in my eyes yet again. “She would have liked that.”
“Good,” he whispered.
11
The next morning, a creak pulled me from a fitful dream full of dead creatures trying to eat me. My heart was hammering like crazy and I was drenched in sweat, but I didn’t move right away. I was too busy trying to catch my breath.
Another creak sounded, and I froze, not even breathing. It had sounded like a footstep. I strained my ears, listening, and I could have sworn I heard breathing.
The horror and gore from my dream came screaming back.
“Is someone there?” I called out, knowing it wasn’t a zombie but needing to confirm it.
There was no answer.
The room was cloaked in shadows, but the little bit of light coming in through my thin curtains told me the sun was coming up. It wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the area by my door, though, so if someone was there, I couldn’t see them. The lack of response told me I must have been imagining things, but I couldn’t help feeling like I wasn’t alone. I didn’t like it.
Sitting up, I reached across the bed and grabbed the flashlight off my nightstand then flicked it on. The beam illuminated my cracked bedroom door, reminding me of the feeling from the day before. Just like then, I was positive I’d shut my door before going to sleep. Was it Miller? Had he snuck into my room while I was sleeping?
The thought made me pull the blankets up to my chin.
I had no proof that it had been him—hell, I had no proof it had been anyone—so I couldn’t say anything about it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t creeped out, because I was. Very.
Knowing I’d never get back to sleep, I dragged myself out of bed and threw on some clothes. Then I brushed my teeth and peed, with the assistance of a flashlight I’d left in the bathroom, before hurrying downstairs.
The house was silent and dark, and I stopped when I reached the living room. The soft sound of breathing filled the room, telling me someone was still asleep. I muted the beam from my flashlight by covering the end with my hand, then pointed it toward the couches, and in the dim light saw Lisa curled upon the loveseat and Devon stretched out on the couch. Good. He needed the rest.
Seeing them gave me an idea, and I headed to the basement, keeping my steps light. Even though I felt a little bit like a creeper, I couldn’t help it. I needed to see if Miller was still asleep.
Just like on the first floor, the basement was dark and silent, and I paused at the bottom of the stairs to listen. Buck’s deep breathing wasn’t quite a snore, but it was close, and it made it tough to tell if there was more than one person down here. Meaning I was going to have to check it out. Repeating what I’d done upstairs, I covered the end of my flashlight to mute the beam then headed deeper into the basement. The bar came into view, then the couches, and I pointed my flashlight that way. The first thing I registered was Buck, lying on his back with his mouth open, but then movement caught my eye, and I jerked the beam toward the loveseat.
Miller lifted his hand, shielding his eyes. “Rowan?”
His voice was husky with sleep, but he was awake. Was he faking? Had he been upstairs but retreated here when he realized I’d woken?
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked when I said nothing. “You’re blinding me.”
I lowered my flashlight. “I thought I heard a noise. Were you asleep?”
“Yeah. Until you tried to blind me, that is.”
I couldn’t tell if he was lying.
“Sorry.” I didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. I took a step back, keeping the beam of my flashlight pointed down. “Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Miller only grumbled in response, but I was pretty sure he rolled over.
I stood there for a second, waiting to see what he was going to do, and his breathing grew heavier. Was it an act? Was he that good?
I was still mulling it over when I turned away and headed for the stairs. The beam of my flashlight danced across the gray carpet as I headed up, and my brain replayed everything that had happened, but I had no clue what to make of it. Maybe I was just being paranoid.
I reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door open, nearly bumping into someone. A yelp broke out of me, and I lifted my flashlight, shining it in Hank’s face. The kid covered his eyes just like Miller had, and I almost yelped a second time.
“Sorry,” I said, lowering it. “You scared me.”
“Um, sorry,” Hank said.
He shuffled his feet and focused his gaze on the floor.
“Hank?” I said after a few seconds of silence. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He shifted again. “I’m good. Just woke up and wondered if anyone else was awake.”
“Just me right now.” I looked toward the living room again. “The sun’s coming up, though, so I’m sure the others will be joining us soon.”
The kid only nodded.
I waited to see if he would say anything, but he didn’t even lift his gaze from the floor.
“Breakfast?” I finally said, nodding toward the kitchen.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. He still didn’t look up.
Something about the exchange made me uneasy, and I found myself practically running to put space between us. My heart was beating faster, and a pit of dread had formed in my stomach. I couldn’t explain why, though. Hank was just an awkward teenager. Right?
He followed me into the kitchen, and I busied myself by opening a box of Pop-Tarts. When I reached into a cabinet to grab a plate, though, I realized that my hands were trembling.
Get a grip, Rowan.
Hank chose that moment to reach around me and grab a Pop-Tart. He was standing insanely close to me, so close that when he pulled his arm back it actually brushed the side of my breast. I jerked away, but when I looked at the kid, he was focused on his breakfast. It was like he hadn’t even noticed.
Was I being crazy? Freaking myself out for no reason?
I didn’t have a clue.
I almost breathed a huge sigh of relief when footsteps entered the room at my back, but then I turned to find Miller stumbling into the room.
It was like creeper central here.
Miller scratched his stomach absentmindedly. “Morning.”
; He looked groggy, barely awake, and he wasn’t focused on me or Hank, or anything, really. Still, I wasn’t thrilled about being alone with the two guys. Not when I didn’t know what was going on.
“Morning,” I said, louder than necessary.
It was a dick move, but I really needed Devon or Lisa to wake up.
“How did you sleep?” I said, raising my voice even more.
Miller jerked away. “You must be a morning person.”
“Yep!” I lied.
I hated mornings.
“Well, tone it down, will you?” he grumbled. “Not all of us like getting up at the ass crack of dawn.”
I practically jumped out of his way when he reached for a Pop-Tart, not wanting a repeat of what had happened with Hank. Miller didn’t seem to notice.
The teen had already moved over to the table and was eating, but his eyes were on me. They were dark and focused, and I could feel them following my every move.
Desperate, I pretended to reach for a Pop-Tart of my own, and in the process bumped into a mug sitting near the edge of the counter. It fell to the floor with a crash, shattering into a hundred little shards that scattered across the floor.
“Shit,” I said, already glancing toward the living room.
Devon shifted, and I held my breath. After a second, he sat up. Thank God.
“What’s going on?” he asked in a groggy voice.
“I accidently dropped a mug,” I called as I knelt to deal with the mess.
The act of sweeping up the shards gave me something to focus on other than Miller and Hank, and by the time I was done, Devon and even Lisa had joined us in the kitchen.
“Sorry to wake you,” I said as I headed for the trashcan—dustpan in hand.
“Needed to get up anyway.”
Devon tried to suppress a yawn and failed, and as usual, it was catching. I covered my mouth with my hand and turned my head, and when I looked back, he was smiling.
“Sorry.”
“Forget it,” I said with a shrug. “I slept like shit. Too many dreams about zombies trying to tear me to pieces.”
And creepers sneaking into my room…
My gaze moved to Miller, but he wasn’t paying attention to us. Either he was the best actor in the world, or he hadn’t been lying about not being a morning person. Hank, on the other hand, was still watching me, but his focus shifted when someone else entered the room, and I turned to find Kiaya heading my way.
I was too rattled to pay much attention to the chatter going on around me, and it only got worse when Zara joined us, and Hank shifted his attention to her. It was just teenage hormones, right? He was sixteen years old, after all. There was no reason to worry he was a danger. He was just a kid.
Before long, everyone was up, but my anxiety didn’t fade. I hated the idea of being this jumpy, especially since we would be heading over to check on Mr. Ito soon.
“We have everything packed?” Devon was asking Lisa, who’d taken on the responsibility of organizing the supplies in the cars.
“Everything we won’t need today,” she replied.
“Good.”
“I’m going to head upstairs,” I said, inching out of the kitchen. “Make sure I have everything I need packed.”
No one commented, and if anyone watched me leave, I didn’t notice as I hurried from the room.
Even though my main objective in coming upstairs had been to get away from Hank and Miller, I hadn’t lied. There were still things I needed to go through. I was leaving my home behind, but that didn’t mean I had to leave everything. There were pictures I could take, and other trinkets that meant something to me. The small music box my dad had bought for me in Boston while at a medical conference, the delicate silver bracelet Mom gave me on my eighteenth birthday.
The jewelry went inside the box, and once the lid was shut, I wrapped it in a floral silk scarf that used to belong to my grandmother. The bag I had on my bed wasn’t the same pink hardcover suitcase I’d taken from Phoenix, but one of the duffels we’d used to gather supplies from the neighbors’. It would be easy to carry, especially if for some reason we had to leave quickly.
I tucked the wrapped box in with the clothes, then added the note Mom had left me, as well as the most recent family picture we had. It had been taken my senior year, and in it I stood between my parents, my blonde hair shining in the evening sunlight while all three of us beamed at the photographer.
After that, I moved about my room, pulling open drawers and digging through things, but taking little else. Over the last few days, I’d marveled more and more over how few of my previously treasured belongings now seemed important. Almost nothing, based on how little was in my bag.
Once I was sure I’d gotten everything I needed, I headed back downstairs. The house was alive with activity as everyone prepared for tomorrow’s departure, but the mood was subdued. They weren’t tortured by the idea of leaving the way I was, but it felt that way. Like my mood had created a black cloud that was now hanging over us, ready to rain buckets.
Too bad when I peered through the blinds, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We really could have used it to put out that fire.
“You want to head out soon?” Kiaya said from behind me, giving me a start.
I let go of the blinds and turned. “Yeah. We should probably get it done.”
She nodded, saying nothing.
It had to be nearing noon by that point, and the kids were sitting around the table munching on canned fruit and Vienna sausages. Even though I still hadn’t eaten, my stomach was too uneasy to even consider food—not that those things were the least bit appealing.
Devon was in the kitchen, and he headed to the door when we did.
He reached it first and put his hand on the knob as if to stop us from running off. “Be careful out there.”
“It will be quick and easy,” I assured him. “Over a couple fences and through a couple yards. That’s it. We’ll be back in no time.”
He nodded, his gaze holding mine, and the concern in his eyes warmed me.
“We’ll be careful.”
Devon let out a deep breath then opened the door, and Kiaya and I stepped outside.
The air was cooler than the bright sunshine made it look, but my pink jacket was more than thick enough to keep me warm. For now, anyway. Soon it would turn cold, and we’d need to think about getting warmer clothes for everyone.
Kiaya and I headed across the patio, and just as we were passing the hot tub, she said, “You’ve been quiet today.”
I chewed on my lip for a second, trying to decide what to say. I hadn’t been able to shake the uneasy feeling that had followed me since I woke up, but since I didn’t trust Devon to respond to my concerns rationally, I hadn’t been sure what to do about it. Kiaya was obviously the answer.
“What do you think of Hank?” I asked, keeping my voice low just in case someone had a window in the house open.
“Hank? He’s intense. Pays attention to everything going on around him but doesn’t interact. I’m starting to wonder if he has some kind of social disorder or anxiety problem.”
That was a thought.
“I noticed that he watches people. The problem is, it’s only the females, and it’s bothering me.”
That made Kiaya pause in her trek across the yard. “I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right.”
She started walking again after only a beat, and we moved the rest of the way to the fence in silence, each of us thinking things over. If Hank had some kind of social issue, it could explain a lot. But it didn’t alleviate my concerns completely, because he was alone with Zara so much. And because he had seriously creeped me out this morning.
When we reached the fence, Kiaya paused again before climbing onto the chair. “You think he’s dangerous?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I just think it’s something we should keep an eye on.”
She nodded twice. “I agree. And I’ll talk to Zara about it.”
<
br /> “Good.”
The talk had helped ease my worries, so that by the time we’d made our way through the Mercers’ yard and climbed the second fence, I was able to switch gears and focus instead on Mr. Ito. I really hoped to be able to convince him to come with us, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t likely. Still, I had to try. He wasn’t in a good place, and staying here would put him in danger.
Instead of just barging in the way we had last time, I knocked on the back door and waited. A few seconds passed, and I peered in through the window, hoping to see movement. There was none, so I knocked again, this time louder.
Kiaya and I exchanged a concerned look when once again nothing happened.
“Should we go in?” I asked.
She let out a deep breath and pulled her knife. “Yeah, but be prepared. With his mental state the way it is, there are no guarantees he’s alive.”
Meaning he might have gotten depressed enough to kill himself.
I hated to admit it, but she had a good point. Mr. Ito had been teetering on the edge last time we were here.
Copying Kiaya, I pulled my own knife, and once we were both armed, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.
“Mr. Ito?” I called as I stepped inside.
The door clicked behind me, telling me Kiaya was inside as well, but I didn’t look back.
The house was insanely quiet, and to my relief, it didn’t stink of rot. Either he was still alive, or his body was still fresh. I prayed it was the first one.
“Mr. Ito?” I called again as I moved deeper into the house.
He’d been upstairs the last time we were here, so I moved that way when he didn’t respond. Like before, the hall at the top of the staircase was dark, but he still didn’t appear when I called his name a third time.
Shit. I hated this new world of uncertainty.
Far Series | Book 2 | Far From Safe Page 23
