Page 263 of Secret Shifters Next Door

Unpacking helped get my mind off what had happened earlier. It only took fifteen minutes to empty the boxes and chuck them into the garage to dispose of later. One thing that had taken a huge load of stress off was that the place came fully furnished. It looked like everything had been purchased in the late-nineties, but it worked for my needs.

Once I was unpacked, I desperately wanted a shower, but I settled on washing my face. I’d take a bath later that night.

Just as I’d finished drying off my face, a loud knock pounded on the door. I jumped and dropped my towel.

The knock sounded again, more aggressive and insistent. I grabbed the towel from the floor and hurried to the door, not even thinking about who might be on the other side. Driven by the demanding nature of the visitor’s knock, I unlocked the door and swung it open.

It took everything in me not to faint. Blayne. Had I thought he’d looked angry when he saw me at cemetery earlier? That didn’t even come close. Now, he looked absolutely apoplectic.

I didn’t even have the chance to ask what he was doing there before he spoke.

“Was this on purpose? Some sick fucking joke?” he asked as he leaned toward me.

What was he talking about? I shook my head and frowned at him. “What joke, Blayne? I don’t know what you mean.”

With a withering look, he swung his hand around and pointed at the house across the street. “I live right there. Did you rent this place on purpose to fuck with me? Is that it? Because that’s some sick shit, even for you.”

Dawning horror descended on me. The odds were astronomical. Completely beyond belief. I’d managed to rent the house right across the street from the person who seemed to hate me more than anyone else in the world. Along with the horror was a rising irritation at Blayne’s audacity to come over here and accost me like this.

I despised confrontation. I actively ran from it in most cases, but that was only because it was exhausting. I’d taken enough shit from Blayne this morning, and I was done. He was opening his mouth to blast me with another tirade, and I was not going to let that happen.

“Stop it,” I said, putting enough power and venom in my voice to make his jaw clap shut. “Please stop, Blayne. I had no clue you lived across the street. I needed a freaking place to rent and this was all that was available in my price range. So just get over yourself. I don’t like being yelled at for something that isn’t my fault. Okay?”

All I could see in his eyes was anger, and I could tell he didn’t really believe me. Seeing his face hurt me deeply. Pain radiated through my chest at how much they looked alike. He and Liam had been twins. Not identical, but theyhadlooked incredibly similar. This was probably how Liam would have looked if he’d lived, at least in the face. Blayne had always beena bit bigger than Liam. Broader shoulders, thicker chest, more muscular arms. He was his own man, though. Maybe if they’d both survived, the brothers would look more different than I remembered.

In fact, Blayne looked even bigger than he did back then. There’d always been somethingboyishabout the younger twin, though. Liam had always seemed more adult than his schoolboy brother, even though they were the same age. Now? I couldn’t help but see how imposing and powerful Blayne seemed. It irritated me that I noticed it.

Blayne broke me out of my thoughts with his next statement. “Well, we were gonna find each other anyway.” He pinched the bridge of his nose like he was fighting off a headache.

“Huh? What does that mean?”

Dropping his hand, he sighed and gave me a much less angry look. “Can we talk? There’s something important I need to tell you.”

First, he’s screaming and cussing at me, and now he wants to have a conversation? It was the anniversary of his brother’s death, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to suddenly go through these weird flip-flops.

I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “Well, talk then. If it’s that important.”

He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Look, it’s a long story, and I don’t want to do it standing on the porch.” He turned and looked back at his house, pausing to think about something. What? I had no clue. When he turned back around, he looked resigned. “How about this? Can we meet somewhere tomorrow so we can get this over with?”

Get what over with? Blayne was acting strange, but whatever he wanted to discuss seemed to mean a lot to him. He was anxious about it. If hearing him out could get him to stop hating me, I’d give it a shot.

“Okay, fine. How about coffee? Say, eight tomorrow morning? There’s a place right downtown.”

He nodded. “I know the place. Sure. That sounds good.”

Without so much as a goodbye, Blayne spun on his heel and stomped back to his house.

I watched him go, the ache in my chest surging. He walked the same way Liam had—swaggering hips, shoulders back and proud, lithe as a cat.

It was like a picture into the past.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to be alone. After looking into those eyes that were so much like Liam’s, the last thing I wanted was to sit in this empty house. In fact, there was only one thing I wanted at that moment. As childish as it sounded in my head, I wanted my daddy.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my keys and got in my car. I didn’t even glance at Blayne’s house as I left. As I drove, I felt even sillier. I’d only left Dad’s place a couple of hours ago, and now I was running back. Maybe I should have done as Uncle Mike suggested and crashed there. I’d have been in a much less awkward situation than I was now.

Ten minutes later, I pulled up in front of the big house he’d lived in my whole life. My father was stepping out onto the brick front porch and waving at me.

“How did you know I was pulling up?” I asked as I got out of the car.

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