Page 150 of Cain
“He’s not coming with us?”
“Not yet.” I start the engine. “But he will. Eventually.”
He clears his throat. “By the way, have you seen Bruce? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
The name makes my temples ring with rage.
“Do you miss him?” I ask with a fake smile on my face.
“He used to always answer, but now he doesn’t.”
I shove the pedal down as if outrunning the fury burning in my veins. “He won’t.” I catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye. His thick brow is hooked high in question. “Unless the bedtime stories about zombies and ghosts are real.”
“What?”
“Some lines should not be crossed. He learned that the hard way.” My eyes lock on his, unblinking. “Consider that youronlywarning.”
Ican’t get her out of my head. My poor Emily. She was just a kid. So damn young. She didn’t deserve any of this.
And he’s away again. He woke up very early this morning and left with Landon. Something is off lately, like he’s been preparing for something. But something like what? It’s killing me that I still can’t figure him out.
The house is deserted, as always. I’m in the kitchen, pretending it’s morning, drinking coffee and eating waffles. I guess I’m losing my mind.
“Do you like the marmalade?” Grayson asks me, pushing his thin glasses back into their place.
“Yes, it’s delicious. Eleanor may be a bit creepy, but it’s a great recipe.”
Oh my God, why did I say that?
To my surprise, he laughs.
“Eleanor can be a bit creepy indeed,” he agrees quietly, leaning toward me.
“At least she’s a good cook,” I continue.
“Thank you for the compliment.” He humbly lowers his head.
I raise a brow. “Compliment?”
“I taught her how to cook.”
“You what?” My eyes widen in surprise.
“The clementine marmalade is my recipe.”
“S—So you made this?”
“I did.”
A storm of emotions rushes through me. Cain doesn’t let Eleanor give us anything without her tasting it first from the pot, and I thought she was the only one who cooked in this place. He never mentioned anything about Grayson. For some reason, I’m not afraid of him. I don’t believe he wants to harm me—or Cain. It’s not only that Cain trusts him, but I trust him as well. He loves Cain like a father does.
“My God, Grayson, is there anything you can’t do?”
He chuckles softly. “I can’t dance.”
Dance … it’s something I haven’t done in ages—actually dance. Alone, getting lost in the rhythm. But in a way, I don’t miss it much. At least, not yet. I suppose my days are now full of threats, blood, and roses. And in the weirdest way, I can’t complain at all.
“I can teach you,” I say without giving it a second thought.
