Page 102 of Plaything

She was lying, and I knew it. The question of why she lied about a dream lingered in my thoughts. The scared expression she wore, as were the tears, was surely from being alone in the woods for so long.

Odette made a great effort to be nonchalant and keep her emotions hidden. I’d known that since the first dinner we shared with her.

Despite how easily she cried, it was rare that she gave anything real away. Her tears were usually out of frustration, but tonight, they were drawn from fear. The dark scared her, and the thought of her crying as she tried to navigate the woods made my chest ache.

Bringing the cigarette to my lips, I allowed the smoke to fill my lungs as I leaned against the rough bricks, staring at the woods. In an attempt to collect myself before she came back downstairs for dinner, I subjected myself to my worst and most comforting habit.

When she first mentioned that she sleepwalked as a child, my initial reaction was that she was trying to get away from something. Of course, that something being her emotionally abusive, good-for-nothing father. Then, when she sleepwalked out of Dominic’s bed, she was obviously trying to lock Charles out, sheltering her life from him, as he was at the house earlier that same day. It was simple psychology, even Niko could have figured it out.

But hearing her lie after she had been missing for four hours was strange. I saw the exact moment that she decided to lie in her eyes. I knew she wasn’t trying to get away from us, and that was what puzzled me. It was entirely possible that she had a dream where she was walking, making her actually walk outside her dream. If that was the case, her lie was unnecessary. The lie made me believe it was something more than that.

We thought she was messing with us when we came home and found her gone and the back door open. After ten minutes of looking for her and shouting her name, we realized she was genuinely missing. Her phone, purse, car, and even the dinner she made were in the house. We didn’t know if she was kidnapped or if her clumsy ass fell, hit her head, and knocked herself out somewhere in the house.

We searched for an hour before Niko called the authorities. They couldn’t file a report until she’d been missing for 24 hours. Wyatt searched the woods (obviously not well enough) while Dominic and I searched every corner of the house, up the road, and around the yard.

We had gone over everything in the last couple of days, making sure that we hadn’t done anything that made her feel uncomfortable, let alone cause her to run away. She’d been perfectly fine earlier in the day—more than fine, according to Wyatt and me.

It was a gut-wrenching four hours, and I was glad it was over.

“If she finds out you smoke, she’s going to make you quit,” Dominic spoke as he stepped into the frigid outdoors.

Glancing at him, I recalled her face when she saw me the other night. She was drunk and not thinking clearly, but there was a slight look of surprise. He was right. When she rediscovered my bad habit, she’d lecture me on how bad it was—as if I didn’t know. It was a conversation I looked forward to having with her. Odette was undeniably adorable, and her scolding while trying to look intimidating wasn’t an exception.

“She already saw me at Collin’s house; she doesn’t remember,” I responded, not in the mood for a conversation.

“Should we tell her she sleepwalked a few nights ago?” He questioned.

“No,” I said with a sigh. I’d already given this thought. “She’s embarrassed about what happened tonight, couldn’t you tell?” I asked. When Wyatt asked what happened earlier, she paused and looked at us as if we’d judge her before giving us an answer.

He wore a thoughtful expression as he crossed his arms. “She just seemed shaken up.”

“She was,” I agreed while turning to him. “Telling her she tried to lock the door will only make her more embarrassed and probably irritated that we didn’t tell her sooner,” I explained. “Now, if she tried to set the house on fire or shower in her sleep, obviously, we’d tell her. But locking a door before going back to bed isn’t worth her overthinking it—and she will.”

“I thought kids usually sleepwalk; isn’t she a bit old to act this way?” Dominic asked, probably catching onto her obvious lie, too.

Truth be told, sleepwalking and night terrors weren’t something I was a subject expert on. I was more interested in studying more obvious psychological tells. “It depends on the person. You’re right. Typically, people grow out of night terrors. I don’t know if she remembers her dreams, if they’re trauma induced, or if it’s sleep paralysis related. I doubt she wants to talk about it either,” I explained.

He seemed unsettled as he looked around the un-fenced yard. “What the fuck can we do? Ask her to only sleep when someone’s home with her?” He thought out loud. “Fuck the board and their rules, I’m fixing the locks,” he announced. I watched closely as his worry grew behind his eyes. Dominic used to be hard for me to read. He barely gave anything away and rarely said what was on his mind. Even as my closest friend, it took me half my life to really know him. One thing I was absolutely certain about was that he cared about safety over everything else.

He wasn’t good at showing emotions, but the only way I’d ever been able to tell who mattered to him and who didn’t was safety. He showed his feelings through small gestures, like suggesting getting chains on my tires when it snowed.

Dominic protected those closest to him, even if it might hurt their feelings.

I nodded, entirely in agreement. When it sent a student to live with us, the board lost its privilege to tell us what we could and could not do with the manor. Chester fixed the stove and gave us about thirty more seconds of hot water, anyway. This place needed a lot of work—especially with Odette taking unexpected midnight strolls.

Wyatt stuck his head out the back door, “Come taste this for me,” he gestured for us to follow him inside.

I glared at him, “Never say those words to me again.”

“Odette made a noodle concoction,” he explained with a laugh.

Disposing my cigarette, I followed him and Dominic inside. Wyatt had five plates and the noodle salad she had prepared earlier in a bowl on the counter. “Take a bite,” he offered as he leaned against the cabinets.

Grabbing a fork, I tasted a few of the noodles, watching Dominic as he did the same. His eyebrows slightly furrowed as he swallowed. “That’s not good,” he whispered.

I smirked at the under-seasoned, too-salty, somewhat spicy dish. “Really bad,” I agreed.

“Where’s Niko?” Dominic asked, hoping he could fix whatever she’d done.

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