Page 62 of Royal
Fuck.
My body shook, and my chest burned as an anxiety attack began to claw its way through me. I didn’t see anything outside. No dark shapes moving. I tried not to think about how there were shadows along the fence…ones that someone could hide in.
When my phone buzzed in my hand, I shrieked and then slapped a hand over my mouth. Blue light from the phone shone in the dark kitchen. I scooted over to lean against the refrigerator, out of sight of the glass doors.
Grayson:Don’t worry about me. Seriously. Based on the profile, the killer is socially awkward and doesn’t confront people head on. He takes the coward’s way and attacks when people least expect it so he can get the upper hand. But I’m never taken off guard, and if he tries anything, I’ll cap his ass.
Me:So, he’d sneak into people’s back yards at night, probably wearing all black, and wait for them to go to sleep or something before sneaking in and knocking them out?
Grayson:Yeah, probably.
Gee, thanks a lot, asshole.But he didn’t know I was referring to me. I was probably overreacting anyway.
A softthumphit the glass door.
I was pretty sure my soul left my body. Every one of my muscles tensed, and my heart jumped up into my throat. And then I heard a faintmeow.I leaned over to look around the kitchen bar so I could see the patio doors. Orange eyes stared back at me.
“Christ, buddy,” I said, finally able to breathe normally again. I stood on shaking legs and walked over to the door, squatting down to look at my new friend on the other side of the glass. Stray cats were constantly running around in my back yard. “Damn near gave me a heart attack.”
The black cat looked at me a moment before running off. I laughed at myself, feeling like I was in one of those cheesy slasher movies.
Before my mind could conjure up any other imaginary monsters—or serial killer maniacs hiding in my bushes—I went to my room, stripped out of my clothes, and slid into bed. The sheets were cool and just as I liked them. My phone was still in my hand, and I stared at Grayson’s contact photo. I’d snapped it the day he and Brysen had met, and in it, he looked like his usual brooding self.
Would it kill him to smile?
Me:Goodnight, Gray. I’ll text you in the morning to make sure you’re still alive.
Grayson:Haha…very funny. Night.
It was too quiet for me to sleep, so I got up and turned on the fan before lying back down. My sheets smelled like Grayson. I grabbed the pillow he’d used the night before and snuggled against it, letting his scent comfort me.
Crazy how we could go so long without speaking and then pick back up where we’d left off. There were still issues between us, like me trusting him and him opening up to me. A bit of resentment still filled my chest when I remembered how he’d treated me…but I hadn’t been the best boyfriend to him back then, either. I’d been a little controlling and, like he’d pointed out before, made plans without consulting him first.
I was a firm believer in making the most of the present. That people shouldn’t be defined from past mistakes. Hell, I’d told Kyler that same thing a million times when he and Declan had been going through all their dramatic shit last year.
I needed to take my own advice.
And so, I forgave Grayson. I let go of the bitterness and freed myself from the grudge I held against him. Until he gave me a reason not to, I’d try to make it work with him. As friends, as something more. Whatever we decided. Something was better than nothing.
I just hoped the deranged psychopath was caught soon.
***
Jack Henderson was a class-A asshole. He always had an arrogant demeanor and a self-satisfied smirk slapped across his face. When he opened his mouth, some kind of criticism or smug comment usually followed. He belittled people, talked down to them, and boasted about his success in life to make himself look better to those around him.
He was also my father.
I rarely talked to him, let alone saw him. When Grayson and I started dating in high school, Jack had pretty much written me out of his life, although we’d lived under the same roof. He snapped at me when I wore my pants too tight or if I spent longer than he thought necessary to fix my hair.
Anything that made me lookgaypissed him off.
Both of us having asshole dads was one major thing Grayson and I had in common. The difference was Grayson’s relationship with his dad had never been good. His dad had abused him both mentally and physically since he was a kid, and it left invisible scars on Gray’s skin. Scars that fused together and formed a wall around himself to keep everyone else out.
My dad had never hit me, but the emotional abuse had gotten to me many times. Jonathon’s death had pushed us further apart. Jack might’ve been a bastard to his eldest son, but he’d adored Jonathon—just as everyone else had. He blamed me, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak.
The bad thing about living in a small-ish town was you sometimes ran into people you’d rather avoid like the plague. Like good ol’ Jack Henderson, as he walked down aisle seven of the grocery store, talking way too loudly on his phone.
Why did I have to go grocery shopping today?I should’ve just starved or ordered take-out again.
