Page 56 of When Darkness Calls

But I jolted. Halted in my step by Grayson filling the doorway, hand raised like he was going to knock on the door.

“Shit, dude, you scared me,” I breathe a laugh through my racing pulse, shaking my head. “I didn’t hear you coming up the stairs. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I just wanted to let you know that we got everything finished up, just waiting for you to do the spiderwebs. I know it’s one of your favorites so…Can’t pass up more opportunities to watch you bossing Alex around and chastising him like a preschool teacher.” He flashes a sharp cheeky grin that causes his lip ring to twitch.

“Wouldn’t have to treat him like a toddler if he didn’t act like one.”

“Welp,” he barks, covering his amusement with a cough and pulling out his phone. “Lucky you weren’t down there for this, or else I’d fear he might have lost his chance at getting a gold star sticker today.” Grayson snorts as he looks at the screen before turning it around to face me.

Alex has Frank, makeover completed, in what looks like…the tango? Birthday hat skewed on his head, the sunglasses pushed low on the bridge of his nose, wearing a saucy expression as the picture was snapped.

My hand smacks my mouth, stifling the laughter as it tears free. “Does he have like a single serious bone in his body?”

Grayson hums in thought. “Maybe he’s an anomaly. Like reversed from everyone else so the only serious bone is actually his humerus.”

“You’re an idiot,” I deadpan, staring at him with a blank expression.

“Eh, I could be worse,” he says, tapping on the screen and a moment later I hear my own phone vibrating on my bedside table. “What’re you doing anyways? You alright?” He looks up eyeing me, glancing around my room before his gaze settles on the large box, before falling back on me.

“I’m good. Just came to get that—” I motion to the closet. “But I can’t reach it. You mind…”

He steps forward before I finish the thought, reaching out to grip the corner of the box and slowly bringing it down and over to my bed.

“Thank you,” I say, moving up beside him, staring down at the box like maybe it will…I don’t know, have answers? Bring some comfort? Or peace?

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to stand beside me, watching me from the corner of his eye, and glancing intermittently at the box. We just stay like that for a few minutes, and I welcome it. I welcome the quiet strength he gives me, the support of his presence. The one that left such a gap in the joy I felt last night.

Softly, I mutter, “I missed you, ya know?”

His head snaps toward me. “Huh?”

“Last night.” My finger runs along the edge of the box, picking at the corner of the flap that's lifted slightly. “I missed you. I wish you had stayed.”

Grayson looks away, head falling against his chest as his hands find their way deep into his jean pockets. His shoulders come up to his ears for a second before falling with the deep exhale he releases. “I know. I—…I can say I’m sorry, but…I don’t think that can really fix it. I messed up. I just hope I can make it up to you, and I’ll try every day until I do. Starting with today and…this box?”

My hand continues its perusal of the box like I could somehow soak up the remnants of my mom’s touch on the surface.

“It’s the haunted village…”

His expression cracks.

And then his hand ghosts my own.

Long, lithe fingers run along the same path as mine. Perhaps he’s also hoping he feels whatever is left of her presence. I miss her every single day. So many things happen that I want to tell her, talk to her about. I crave the sound of her heart beating in my ear as she holds me in a tight embrace. I yearn for the nights when we would lay in her bed, giggling, talking, and painting each other’s nails. And above all…I’d give absolutely anything to hear her say everything will be okay and that I’m doing great just one more time.

From the side, I watch him. Much like my hands along the box, my gaze trails over his messy, nearly pitch black hair, down the sharp slope of his nose to the peak of his cupid’s bow. I can feel the sadness, the longing glowing in his silver-hewn eyes. His sharp jaw clenches once, twice then his throat bobs with a deep swallow.

What is he thinking?

Is he thinking of the things he misses about her?

Or is he reminiscing on all the times he likely helped her set the village out? All the memories he must have with her before I can remember, let alone before I was born?

He had…so much more time with her. They all did. And even if she wasn’t their mother by blood…you’d never have known.

Marlene Carver loved hard. She loved deeply, unconditionally, and without bounds. She never believed family could be limited by something as insignificant as blood, and she never let anyone dissuade her in that belief.

And if there’s anything from my mom I hope I can carry with me through my life, I hope it’s that.