Page 30 of Quiet Obsession
We get back to Creed’s house just before two in the afternoon after stopping for pizza.
The burial took less time than the journey, but we stood over the casket for an hour, passing the bottle of bourbon around until not one drop was left.
“Are we heading back today?” Dash asks around a big bite of pepperoni.
“Considering only Creed’s sober enough to take the wheel, and we’ve got three cars, I think we better wait until morning,” Hyde points out.
“So, what do you want to do?”
Creed swallows before he speaks. “A bonfire. There’s a bunch of Jeremiah’s stuff that needs torching.”
“Alright,” Noah says. “A bonfire it is.”
Hyde pushes his plate aside after polishingoff the fifth slice and stares down at mine. The triangle of cheese pizza he dropped onto my plate is still there, untouched. My stomach’s sloshing with bourbon, appetite gone.
Creed’s presence doesn’t help.
My mind’s a tennis match where he’s concerned. I spent most of the night wide awake, staring at the ceiling and figuring out how to keep away from him and the peculiar way he makes me feel. Then, as soon as I saw him in the kitchen, my plans went up in flames.
I can’t put my finger on what it is about him. Why his presence dismantles my walls and settles my nerves way faster than the pills my psychiatrist prescribed. And there were a lot, including sleeping pills.
My parents werefurious, but once Dr. Quinn explained there was no chance of an overdose even if I swallowed twice as many pills as were in the bottle, they calmed down.
Still, I haven’t touched them.
I warred with myself for ten minutes this morning, chewing my cheek to keep my voice at bay while the silence between me and Creed grew so oppressive I almost gave up and opened my mouth. Thankfully, I caught myself before stringing out more questions than I’ve ever wanted to ask anyone.
Why is he so glad his father’s gone? What did he do? Why did he hate him so much? Why did he strip the funeral to the bare minimum? Why did he celebrate?
Every question would give away my curiosity. Each would show parts of me he could use later, so I grabbed thechessboard to occupy my hands and mind. I could’ve locked myself in the guest bedroom, but I stayed, tethered by an invisible force I couldn’t sever no matter how hard I tried.
Creed shouldn’t make me feel at ease.
Everything about him screamsrun. He’s tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, intense in the way he moves and watches my every move. A different brand of intense from Noah’s.
One is controlled and composed, the other looks seconds away from flipping a table upside down, always on the verge of exploding.
He’s good at masking his riot. And somehow, I see a mirror in him. My head’s chaotic, even more so since last night.
Since I met him.
There are so many thoughts swirling, so many contradicting whispers, so many completely opposite fears, it’s hard to stick to one lane. I think Creed’s the same. He’s channeling his inner control to stay composed while everything inside him boils. Almost as if he knows that letting the corks fly will end in disaster.
I feel the same way.
Not talking isn’t easy. I’ve always been bubbly. It goes against my nature to keep my lips shut while questions and words make a beeline for the exit, but I know I’msaferwhen I’m silent.
“Millie,” Hyde prompts, summoning my attention. “Do you want something other than pizza?”
I shake my head.
“You haven’t touched it. It’s good. Eat, okay?”
My lips pinch, a blush heating the apples of my cheeks. Creed made me a huge breakfast and I cleared the whole plate. I’m not hungry, so instead of taking a bite to get Hyde off my case, I fetch a bottle of water from the fridge. His jaw ticks, eyes boring into mine when I sit back down, pushing my plate aside.
“Oh, come on, Mini Ward.” Dash intervenes. “You were doing so well at Gravemont. Just one slice, alright?”
When I refuse, crossing my arms over my chest, Hyde sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
