*
I wanted to think I was a big girl, but when I kept glancing up at the ceiling even though it was only about six o’clock, I wanted to cry.
I hated being paranoid. Scared. But no matter how much I told myself that a bat was just a sweet little sky puppy…
I wasn’t buying it. And it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go to get out of there. I hadn’t made enough friends yet.
I got along with most people I met, and most folks were really pretty friendly back, especially my customers at the store. Even the grumpiest people, I could usually win over with time. Back when I’d been with Kaden, I’d met a lot of people, but after a while, everyone wanted something from him, and it had made it impossible to know who wanted to be my friend for me and who wanted it for him.
And that was with them not knowing we were together. We had guarded that secretly tightly. Using NDAs—nondisclosure agreements that pretty much guaranteed that if anyone spoke about our relationship, the Joneses would sue the shit out of them. Not being able to be open with people had just become second nature.
And that was why people like Yuki and even Nori didn’t have that many friends either.
Because you never knew what someone really thought about you unless they told you that you had spinach between your teeth and looked dumb.
I picked up my phone and thought about calling my aunt or uncle, and that was when I heard the garage door open, and a moment later, the buzz of an amp come on from downstairs.
Setting my phone back down, I headed toward the top of the staircase and listened as someone, who I could only assume was Amos, strummed a chord and then another. He adjusted the volume and did it all over again.
Planting my butt on the top step, I curled my fingers around my knees and listened as he tuned his guitar and, after a few minutes, started playing a few blues licks.
And that’s when I heard his quiet, soft voice start singing, so low in volume I leaned forward and had to strain.
His voice didn’t raise in volume, and I was pretty sure he was singing so low so that I wouldn’t hear him, but I could. I had good ears. I’d protected my hearing over the years by wearing top-of-the-line ear protection. I’d left my set of three-thousand-dollar in-ears when I’d left the home I’d shared with Kaden, but I still had a great set of headphones and Hearos that maybe I’d use again someday. To go see Yuki.
Creeping quietly down a few more steps, I stopped and strained some more.
Then I shifted down a couple more steps.
And a couple more.
Before I knew it, I was standing right outside the door that separated the apartment from the actual garage. As quietly as possible, I opened the door that led outside and closed it behind me the same way, moving like a snail to be as quiet as humanly possible.
I stopped.
Because sitting on the top step of his deck was Mr. Rhodes. In dark jeans and a light blue T-shirt, his elbows were propped on his knees. He was listening too.
I hadn’t seen him in more than passing since the day we’d gone to see the waterfalls.
He’d spotted me first, I guess.
I put my finger over my mouth to let him know I knew to be quiet and slowly started to sink on top of the mat right outside the door. I didn’t want to bother him or intrude.
But his blank face slowly got replaced by a frown.
He gestured to me to come over, even as his frown got deeper by the second.
Standing back up, I tiptoed across the gravel as quietly as possible, relieved when Amos started playing louder, his singing drifting away, wrapping around the notes coming from his guitar.
But the closer I got to Mr. Rhodes, the graver his expression became. The elbows he had resting on his knees slid up his thighs until he was sitting up straight, those pretty gray eyes of his wide, his expression stricken.
And my smile slowly melted off.
What was he—？ Oh. Right.
How the hell could I forget when I’d spent the entire day having customers fawn all over my bruised face? One of the customers who I’d met a few times by then, a local man in his sixties named Walter, had left the store and come back with a loaf of homemade bread his wife had made. To make me feel better.
I’d just about cried when I’d given him a hug.
“Nothing happened,“ I started to tell him before he cut me off.
His back couldn’t have been any straighter, and I was pretty sure his expression couldn’t have been any grimmer. “Who did that to you?” he asked in a slow, slow voice.
“No one,” I tried to explain again.
“Someone jump you?” Mr. Rhodes asked, drawing out each word.