Page 96 of Shadowed Whispers

“You’re inviting me to your mom’s?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” She tugs on my hand, drawing me out the door.

As I prepare to leave the suffocating tension behind, I steal one last look at Bishop. His shoulders are slumped, and he wears an expression of someone who has lost everything.

Good, I think, bitter satisfaction piercing through me. He deserves to feel this way. As I turn away, though, a sharp pang of guilt stabs at my heart. Why does his pain stir sympathy in me after everything?

Chapter 33

Frankie

“There are my girls!” We hear Abigail’s voice, oddly muffled and distant, before we even see her. The bright red front door swings open, and Abbi pulls us into a three person hug. It’s a warmth I should feel comforted by, yet there’s a tautness in her embrace that I’ve never felt from her before.

“Ma.” Tori struggles, her words muffled against Abbi’s shoulder.

“Let them breathe, Abbi,” Andy chimes in, prying us apart with gentle hands. Her smile is wide, her cheeks flushed with the excitement of our arrival. Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone so excited to see me. “Well, I heard the game had a bit of a dramatic flare to it.”

I snort, the sound more nervous than amused. “You could call it that,” I comment, trying to keep my voice light.

Abbi finally releases us. “Inside, let’s go.” As she steps back, I notice she’s wearing a muumuu, vibrant and patterned, which seems to amplify her already exuberant personality.

I shuffle into the living room, my senses immediately engulfed by the nostalgia that permeates Abbi’s home. The walls are adorned with framed family pictures. Eclectic knickknacks fill the shelves, from antique vases to whimsical ceramic figures. The air is thick with the scent of something savory cooking in the kitchen, mingling with a faint floral fragrance that seems to linger in the corners of the room.

Tori flops down on the floral sofa, the cushions sighing under her weight. She tugs me down beside her onto the soft embrace of the well-worn fabric.

The clinking of cookware and murmur of Abbi’s and Andy’s voices drift into the room from the kitchen. The aroma intensifies, hinting at homemade bread and something else, something that reminds me of Sunday dinners from a life I never had. As I breathe in deeply, a fleeting, inexplicable chill passes through me, briefly overlaying the warm scents with something cold and shadowy. It’s gone as quickly as it came, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it.

“So, spill,” Tori says, her voice low but insistent, her eyes flicking toward the kitchen before returning to mine with a piercing intensity. “You’ve been off all day. It isn’t just the game, is it? This feels like it’s about those shadows you’ve mentioned before. What happened today?”

I never mentioned shadows to her before…

I bite my lip, tracing the floral pattern on the sofa arm with my fingertip. The fabric is soft, slightly pilled from years of use. “It’s just…” I begin, my voice trailing off as I struggle to find the right words, especially considering her past with Bishop. There’s more though. “I feel like I’m missing something.” As the words leave my lips, a dull ache starts to form behind my eyes, the beginnings of a headache.

Tori’s expression softens, her usual levity fading as she leans her head back against the couch, her eyelids fluttering closed. Her body seems to melt into the cushions, and I envy her ability to feel so at home, so completely relaxed in this familiar setting.

“I don’t know exactly,” I whisper. How do I even bring up what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, any of it? I chew on my lip, shifting slightly to try and find a comfortable spot on the couch. Despite Abbi and Andy’s warmth and hospitality, I still feel like an outsider, awkward and out of place.

Tori hums, a sound so soft I almost miss it. I think she’s half asleep when she suddenly opens one eye and fixes it on me. “So,” she murmurs so quietly I have to lean in to hear her, “what did you see tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I confess, pausing as a shiver races down my spine. Today, when the shadows moved, it wasn’t like before. I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me. There was a beast, something fierce and familiar yet wholly terrifying. It felt like it knew me, like those shadows that have haunted me since I was a child. I wrap my arms around myself, the memory of the cold, dark presence swirling through my core still vivid and unsettling.

“Okay, we have bougie grilled cheese!” Abbi announces cheerfully as she emerges from the kitchen with a plate of sandwiches stacked high. The sight of the food, so lovingly prepared, momentarily distracts me from the turmoil inside.

I let the previous conversation slide as Abbi sets the plate down on the coffee table. Honestly, I’m just thankful for the change in conversation. I can’t even begin to wrap my head around everything that happened, so I’m grateful for this moment of peace, this simple pleasure. “What is a bougie grilled cheese?” I ask.

“I baked the bread,” Andy says, coming in behind Abbi with a glass in each hand. She hands one to her sister before they simultaneously sit in their respective chairs, mirroring each other’s movements so perfectly it’s almost choreographed. It makes me wish I had a twin, someone to share that kind of effortless connection with.

“There are three different kinds of cheese too,” Abbi adds, her voice filled with pride. “Go on, try it!”

I pick up one of the sandwiches, the bread still warm and slightly crusty at the edges. As I take a bite, the cheese—sharp, creamy, and a bit tangy—melds perfectly in my mouth. The flavors fill me with a warmth that spreads through my limbs. “This is amazing,” I tell them sincerely, the taste grounding me in the here and now.

Abbi claps her hands together, her delight palpable. “I told you she’d love it, Andy!”

Andy chuckles, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “It’s the Gouda. Gouda changes everything,” she quips, her laughter light and easy.

“You two are like some sort of cheese wizards,” I say, managing a smile as I swallow another mouthful. The homemade bread adds a whole new dimension to the meal. “How did you even come up with this?”

“It was a happy accident, really,” Abbi confesses with a shrug. “One day we just threw together leftovers from a fancy cheese board Andy brought over.”

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