Page 31 of The Hallows Queen

Penelope

I wakefrom my nap around 5, putter around my apartment for hours, and then finally throw myself into the shower to try to get my mojo back.

I feelsad.

After scrubbing myself from head to toe in expensive body sugar bullshit Katie left behind, I wrap myself in a towel and walk to the kitchen for some dinner.

The sun sets in the background outside the balcony doors while I cut up chicken and vegetables, then make a stir fry. My stomach rumbles as I load it all onto a plate and carry it to the living room. I haven’t eaten all day, having been a nauseous, angsty mess this morning, and then wasting the rest of my day sleeping and doing absolutely nothing.

I don’t bother turning on the TV, instead I just stare mindlessly at the blank screen while I shovel food into my mouth. My mind is busy – too fucking busy for my liking. Flashes of my father lying in a hospital bed, unconscious with tubes and wires coming from him run through my mind uncontrollably. They graduate into images of him dead, his funeral, my mother being a widow, the pain that comes along with losing your loved one.

When my plate is empty, and my eyes are watering, I clear my throat and stand up. I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to picture my father’s lifeless body before me and somehow try to comprehend how I’m going to handle it. I don’t want to miss him, and I don’t want my mom to be alone.

They’re a pair; they go together. And I’m afraid that losing him will be the loss of her as well, that it’ll be the end of the normalcy I’ve grown to rely on – having parents.

I go to the kitchen, toss my plate in the sink, and picture me as a little girl – so fucking alone. Abandoned. Parentless. I don’t want to go back to that. I want them to live forever with me, for it to be the three of us until the end of time.

I can’t lose them.

I can’t.

My phone goes off in my bedroom, pulling me from my subconscious with a start.

“Jesus,” I whisper to myself as I walk through the apartment and grab my phone from my nightstand. “Pull it together, P.”

A tingle runs through me at the unsaved number hovering on my screen, knowing who it is without even looking at the message.

Yes.This is what I need.

I open the message and read it out loud to myself. “Meet me at Amethyst tonight.”

My thumb brushes over the keypad without thought, knowing what I need isn’t to be alone in a room full of people. I need release and to be the center of his fucking attention.

Me:

Your place instead?

I watch the message go, and when it saysdelivered, I rush for my closet. I grab a matching set of black lingerie, then throw a pair of jeans and tank top over it, not wanting to looktooprepared. I’m going for casual-slutty, my favorite vibe.

When my phone gets another text, I grab it and click on the message.

Unsaved number:

657 Royal Oaks Blvd. Meet me in 20.

I recognize the street, as it’s in one of the wealthy communities further inland. I had friends who lived there growing up.

Rushing to the bathroom, I quickly apply some makeup, and then put my hair into a messy bun that doesn’t look intentional, but definitely is, then I run out to the living room.

I throw my phone into my purse, toss it over my shoulder, then grab my keys before turning off all the lights in my apartment and rushing out the door.

* * *

It takesme eight minutes to get across town and pull into Hayden’s neighborhood,but who’s counting?

His house is another three minutes into the complex. Right at the end of the street sits a big gate that’s already open, so I pull right into the long driveway. The lawn is freshly cut and perfectly green, like someone spends a lot of time out here taking care of it, and right at the end of the winding drive sits a massive glass and black mansion that makes my jaw drop.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath as I stop behind a shiny black Maserati that’s parked just outside the front door. He must have motion cameras, because the second my car stops moving, the light on the porch turns on, and I see him on the other side of the glass door.

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