Page 45 of Don't Bite the Boy Next Door
Holding my breath, I listen hard for any indication of who could be on the porch, breathing a sigh of relief when I recognise a heartbeat.
Ignoring Ryan’s directive, I move to the door and look through the peephole to see an elderly lady standing there, her eyes worried.
As soon as I look into those eyes, I know exactly who she is, and I throw open the door and step back, smiling widely.
“Mrs Spencer.”
Just as I say this, Ryan steps around the corner and freezes. The look on his face is one of such complete desolation and deep, deep sadness, I almost cry out. But before I can say anything his features settle into stone, and he mounts the porch stairs.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Ryan,” she breathes, walking to him and folding him into a stiff embrace. I notice he doesn’t raise his arms as she hugs him, merely allows them to hang loosely at his side.
Over her shoulders I meet his eyes, and they are full of rage.
