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So not only had Mom been ripped from me young, dying in a car crash, but everything familiar in my life vanished in an instant.
Why so soon after her death? And why only me?
I thought I'd get answers once I was an adult. Now, they died with dad.
I hadn’t even known he was sick. What did that say about us?
The blank ceiling stared back, offering no answers.
Three days after the reading of the will, the shock was finally starting to wear off, leaving only my heart heavy in my chest.
I’d put in several job applications and was waiting for call backs—determined to be the adult and care for Callie.
In front of her, I pretended that everything would be fine.
But now, alone in my room, I felt like a kid again. Lying in my childhood bed reminded me of mom reading me to sleep.
Closing my eyes, I tried to remember the sound of her voice but the memory of it was gone. Disappointment swelled in my chest, and along with the pain of dad's death, made tears threaten to spill over again.
I clutched my comforter up to my neck, allowing them to fall as I listened to the sounds of the thunderstorm raging outside.
A pounding noise suddenly echoed through the house, and my eyes shot open, my heart racing, and a trickle of fear edged under my skin.
I’d never been here before without dad, and Benson was far off in his cottage this late.
Callie’s head peeked from her doorway, meeting my gaze in the hallway. "Is that the door?"
"Could it be Benson?" I asked, uneasily, slipping from my bed.
"Doesn't he have a key?" She rubbed her red and puffy eyes; she’d been crying again.
"True." I stepped out of my room, and as the pounding continued, we both turned to stare over the second floor landing.
We couldn’t actually see the front entrance, there was an antique bronze chandelier and a large archway in the way.
"Isn't he supposed to lock the front gate?” she asked me.
"He always does." The iron gate, opened by remote or key code, kept any random visitors from entering the long driveway.
We both stood there, staring, waiting for the person to leave. Whatever they wanted, they could come back another day. Nothing good happened this late at night—at least, not with strangers… unless it was Garrett, who’d mysteriously disappeared.
If so, he’d better have one hell of an excuse. He’d relentlessly hounded me to meet up… and now, he hadn’t even responded to my text that dad had died.
"They're not leaving." Callie met my gaze, a spark of alarm in her eyes.
"I'll answer it."
"I'll go with you."
"Get a robe on first."
"You too," she scrambled towards her room, and I moved quickly and quietly down the stairs, making my way easily in the darkness. Pulling the rifle out of the front closet, Callie met me, her fear now replaced with resolve. I was glad we were in this together.
She waited as I checked to make sure there were actual bullets in the chamber. When I gave her a curt nod, she yanked the door open, then scurried backwards and out of sight.
A dark shadow stood in the doorway, large and imposing.
Panic made me grip the stock too tight and my heart pounded. I pointed the gun upwards. "You'd better have a damn good reason for banging on my door this time of night."
