Page 47 of Dreadful
I lead her out into the hall, toward my room, my shower. But I already know I’m not washing her off me anytime soon. Maybe not fucking ever.
SEVENTEEN
The evening sun has shifted enough that the rays’ reflection bleeds into the glass again. I adjust one of the blinds with the edge of my thumbnail until the glare disappears, and the backyard comes back into focus.
Days have passed since the boys came back to Corrine's house.
Enough time for routines to reform. New patterns will emerge soon. It’s a good thing I’ve cleared my calendar then.
My face presses against the hard edge of the slats, my exhales briefly fogging the glass.
The pool is empty now.
But I can still see her in it.
Uncomfortable sensation builds inside my chest.
She floats between Rafe and Gage, laughing when Gage splashes her before turning to say something to Rafe.
Whatever it is draws the smallest smile from him before he disappears beneath the surface and reemerges several feet away.
How… curious.
The second oldest rarely lingers in the water. He usually prefers the edge of it.
My attention shifts away from the pool and settles on the youngest Calloway. He hasn't moved from the chair other than to pace and continue watching.
That’s what all the boys have been doing for days now.
Watching.
The fence, the driveway, the second garage—her.
Always her.
Water sluices down the side of her face as Rafe leans into her.
She wraps her arm around his neck, and I feel a phantom pressure along my nape.
She pulls him in close, her lips moving, and I feel warmth along the shell of my ear.
She tips her head back, her mouth falling open, and I feel her laughter against my lips.
The slats dig into my forehead, the bridge of my nose, my chin, and I welcome the dull ache.
She presses her mouth to his, and I feel the taste of her on my tongue.
Hunger warms my gut, and I contemplate moving up my plans.
Cruz paces the perimeter then, forcing me to ease away from the window whenever his path brought him too close. Not that he could see me. I made sure of that a long time ago.
But I’m nothing if not precautious.
I admit I almost ruined everything nearly a week ago, when all the Calloways closed rank at Corrine’s house.
The first day, I convinced myself they knew. I made a Hail Mary contingency plan, one to guarantee a sixty-eight-percent success rate. It’s lower than my standards allow, but I thought I was backed into a corner.
By the second night, I abandoned the Hail Mary, just like I’ve done to all my previous plans that no longer serve me.
