Page 42 of A Taste of Vanilla

“Sorry.”

“It’s emotionally damaging.”

“I take it back.”

“I’m still billing you,” he says as he heads for the stairs. At the top, he looks back. “If you need anything?—”

“I know,” I say softly.

He gives one sharp nod as he disappears. A moment later, I hear their voices downstairs. Low, but clearly arguing gently. The back door opens and closes, and I settle into the silence.

“I breathe through the light panic as I stand, gather the clothes Marley found, and walk to the bathroom.”

The shower does, in fact, scream. A high, ancient sound that might be the pipes or may be a ghost with a grievance.

I laugh under the spray, then cry again, quieter this time.

When I get out, my phone buzzes. My heart stops as I hope it isn’t Boat Shoe Judas.

But it’s Marley.

MARLEY

Alive?

Shower screamed but I survived.

MARLEY

Proud of you. Lock the door.

Yes, mom.

MARLEY

I’m cooler than your mom.

True.

MARLEY

I love you.

Love you too

A second later, Oliver texts.

OLIVER

Door.

I roll my eyes, walking downstairs to check the back door. I lock the deadbolt before trudging back up.

Locked.

OLIVER

Oven knobs.