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“Are you talking to your friends?” she asks as she makes her way into the kitchen.
I nod, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. “Yeah. I was just telling them I got here safely.” A lie, but I’m not about to confess what I was really talking about.
“They must be good friends if they’re worried about your safety.” She walks up to me and folds her arms. “I just want you to know that, while there’s a lot of chaos in this house, you’re still safe with us. And if you have any questions at all, please ask. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” She places her hand on mine. “I’ve always wanted a daughter, and while I know I can never replace your mom, I’d like us to be friends.”
“Okay … I do have one question.” Well, one that I’m daring to ask. “What was that shrieking I heard earlier?”
At first, she appears clueless, but then recognition lights up her eyes, and she chuckles. “That was Easton.”
“Is he okay?”
She gives my hand a squeeze. “While my boys love to pull pranks on people, they don’t handle it well when they’re on the receiving end.” A wary look crosses her face. “Do me a favor? Lock your bedroom door tonight, okay? While I’d like to believe my boys won’t try to prank you, there’s always a tiny chance they’ll try.”
“Okay.” I eye her over, questioning if she’s being serious.
She sure looks like she is, and that makes my worry skyrocket.
So, I have to lock the door when I’m sleeping. Yeah, if I wasn’t already uneasy about living here, I sure as hell am now.
Chapter 11
That night, after I change into my pajamas, I slip into bed with the door locked. My belly is full of yummy spaghetti and garlic bread, and the mattress is more comfortable than any I’ve ever slept on. Maybe that’s why the sky is so content, just stars and moonlight twinkling against the darkness.
Even though I had a pretty long nap today, my eyelids feel extremely heavy. I’m so close to dozing off when I hear voices just outside my window.
Confused, I climb out of bed, pad over to the window nook, and peer outside. The view from my bedroom is directly into the backyard, which is acres and acres of land that stretches toward a thick forest. And hurrying across the land toward the trees are three figures, one significantly taller than the other two, although all appear on the taller side. And all are wearing hoods pulled over their heads, as if they’re trying to keep their identities concealed.
I start to back away, worried they’re thieves or something, when one of the figures comes to a stop and turns to look at me.
Bright, glowing, green eyes collide with mine.
Max?
Sleep …
That’s the last thing I remember before darkness overcomes me.
Have you ever woken up feeling as though you have a hangover, yet you never drank the night before? Well, that’s about how I feel the next morning when my eyes blink open.
It takes me a second to get my bearings, to remember that I moved in with the Everettsons. Then, a second later, my head begins to throb.
“God, I feel like shit,” I mumble, rolling onto my side and retrieving my phone off the nightstand. When I note the time, I wonder if I somehow did get drunk last night and just don’t remember.
“Two thirty in the fucking afternoon? How did I sleep so late?” I rub my eyes and blink a couple of times, attempting to clear some of the disorientation from my mind.
It takes a couple of minutes before I have a clear enough head to get out of bed. Then I grab a pair of black pants and a grey tank top before heading toward the bathroom to take a shower.
Emaline showed me which bathroom was mine last night. And I mean mine in the literal sense. Apparently, there are enough bathrooms in this house to go around, so I get my very own. I’ve never had my own bathroom, so it’s a bit weird, but I’m pretty grateful I don’t have to share with any of the Everettson brothers.
After I shower, get dressed, and comb my hair, I make my way downstairs to get some breakfast. By the time I make it to the main floor, I begin to wonder if perhaps no one is home. When I push into the kitchen, I realize my assumption is correct.
Taped on the front of the fridge is a note:
Hey Sky!
Just wanted to let you know that we’ll be gone for most of the day for a baseball tournament (I think Gabe mentioned it yesterday). Help yourself to whatever you need, and if you’d like Charlotte to make you some lunch, just push the buzzer near the fridge. You can also wander around and get familiar with the house. Just steer clear of the basement because we’re having issues with mice. There’s a pool out back in the garden room if you’d like to go for a swim.
If you need to get ahold of any of us, there’s a list of all our numbers in the note section on the iPad on the counter, along with the passcode to the house alarm in case you need to set it. If you wouldn’t mind adding your phone number to the list, that’d be fantastic. That way, we can get ahold of you, too.
