God, I miss my dad.
Now that thoughts of my dad have cooled my libido, my body decides to remind me that I need food.
I tiptoe out of the bedroom and quietly close the door as I leave. I take a moment to look around. I didn’t get much of a chance to explore this place yesterday, so I’m going to take advantage now. I’m not sure how long we’ll be here, but I don’t want to miss a single second of opportunity to dig for info on my guys.
The hallway is bare except for two framed photos of three little boys. I step closer for a better look, and I can’t stop the smile that takes over my face. A black-haired boy smiles with his arms thrown around two other boys—a little blond-haired one with dimples and a dark-haired boy with a smirk. I see a Ferris wheel is in the background, and I wonder if they were at Coney Island.
I went there with Maddie and Mary a few different summers. It’s always fun to grab a funnel cake and people watch. I wonder if we were ever there at the same time.
I note four other doors in the hallway as I move to look at the other photo. If there was any question about who the little boys were in that photo, there’s no question who’s in this photo. Rush, Wolf, and Sully stare back at me from this photo. They’re in a similar position—Wolf in the middle and the other two on either side. But long gone are the smiles and Ferris wheel. All three of them have their arms folded across broad chests and none of them are smiling—not even a hint of a smile. They’re standing in front of some kind of garage, but other than that, there’s nothing else in the photo. It’s an interesting photo to frame, that’s for sure, and I wonder what the backstory is. Maybe one day I’ll ask them.
With one final glance at the photo, I leave the hallway and walk through the living room until I reach the kitchen. It’s an open floor plan, so you can easily see everything—the kitchen, the living room, the family room which is really just an extension of the living room and two hallways. One hallway, the one I just came from, leads to the bedrooms, and the other hallway leads down to an area of the house I haven’t seen yet.
A built-in bookcase lines the wall directly across from the kitchen with some books, a ton of vinyl records, a few candles, and a couple of video game systems on the shelves.
Those vinyls definitely piqued my interest.
A rustic table with six chairs sits in the middle of the dining room. Some of the guys’ tactical gear sits on top of the table, but otherwise, the room looks a little unused.
I make my way toward the kitchen. It’s huge by anyone’s standards, but it seems small compared to Summer Knoll’s.
White marble countertops cover all the counter space around the kitchen, including the island. Four light-blonde wood stools with backs sit nicely underneath the island.
This looks like the place they’d spend time and eat their meals at.
A fancy coffeemaker, microwave, and an empty fruit bowl are the only things on the counter.
I spy a bottle of rum and a couple of cans of Coke on the island, three empty cups, two with a ring of condensation around the bottom. Wolf once told me that vodka is for secrets, tequila is for losing your inhibitions, and whiskey is for making shit happen. But he never told me his philosophy on rum. I wonder what occasion calls for rum.
I feel a little bit weird about just helping myself to food without asking, but my stomach growls again, reminding me that I need to eat.
Ten minutes and a sandwich later, I bring my plate to the sink and quickly wash it. It’s one of those deep farm tub sinks—big enough to wash pots and pans in it. After I rinse the plate and set it in the drying rack next to the sink, I turn around and lean against the counter. The kitchen is nothing like the kitchen at Summer Knoll. This one is smaller—obviously—but it feels more like them to me.
I roll my eyes at myself. I’ve barely known these guys, and here I am acting like I know their style.
Though, I suppose there are certain events that can happen that might bond two people together. Or in my case, four. And I think the events of the last couple of days are enough to bring even strangers together. And we’re hardly strangers, the Fitzgerald boys and I.
The bottle of rum catches my eye, and I decide that if there was ever a time to pour myself a stiff drink, it’s now. Grabbing one of the glasses on the island, I toss a few ice cubes in the glass. I flinch at the sound before I can stop myself.
With a deep inhale and exhale, I pick up the bottle and bring it to my nose. One sniff and my eyes water.
Perfect.
I want something that’ll hurt a little, help me bury the emotions I can feel bubbling up to the surface again. My hand is steady as I pour a splash in the glass and immediately toss it back. I wince as the liquor hits the back of my taste buds, but it quickly evens out as the rum settles in my belly. Warmth spreads through my body, starting with my fingers.
“Okay then,” I murmur as I pour another generous splash in the glass, this time adding a little Coke. Setting down the bottle, I cradle the glass up by my shoulder as I spin around and take in the space.
The open floor plan really makes this space seem large but still homey. The high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows make the space feel a lot bigger than it actually is. I walk into the room and trail my free hand along the top of the gray leather sectional couch. The matching overstuffed chair sits in the corner of the room, both facing the TV hanging on the wall. Unlike the hallway, there are no photos here. A few game controllers on the coffee table are the only signs that this room was recently used.
A noise catches my attention, and I freeze for a moment before I remember that no one can reach me here. And if somehow, someone got inside the house, I have no doubt that all three of them would be here in an instant.
When I hear the low hum of what sounds like the news, I decide to snoop just a little longer. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to observe them for a few minutes before they realize I’m there.
As quietly as possible, I tiptoe through the living room and kitchen, and follow the low murmur of the TV down a hallway off the kitchen. I don’t remember seeing this part of the house when we got here, but that’s not saying much. A lot of the last few days seems like a dream—too far-fetched to be real but too painful to be just a dream.
I take care with each step on the gray hardwood floors, careful not to make too much noise. Three more doorways branch off this hallway, and I suddenly realize that this small hideaway house is much larger than I originally thought.
Two doors are closed, but a third is halfway open. Soft light spills into the hallway, shining on my chipped pink polish on my bare feet. I peek inside and see Rush sitting at a mini command station.
Chapter Fourteen
Alaina
“Come in, little bird.”
His voice startles me, and I jump a little, knocking my shoulder into the doorframe.
I slowly push open the door and take a step inside. I bump the door closed with my hip and lean against it as I glance from his broad back to everything else in the room. It’s about the size of the room I’m staying in, but it’s outfitted like a mini command station.
“Do you need something?” he asks without turning around, and a flush of embarrassment warms my cheeks.
Shoot. Maybe this was a bad idea. But I know that I didn’t hallucinate him helping me—almost lovingly—in the shower. It was unexpected but not unwelcome. And I . . . I want to see what he’ll do next. Will he kiss me again? Will he tell me to leave? Will he tell Wolf?