Page 96 of Cloudless
That view looks awfully damn empty without the twins in the backseat.
CHAPTER 44
IT’LL ALL MAKE SENSE SOON
LILA
Kam
So…I probably should have asked if this was okay before I did it.
No, scratch that. I definitely should have asked if it was okay before I did it…
My heartbeat echoes in my ears as I walk through the full parking lot of The Penalty Box. The stale beer smell feels like a permanent coating on my skin after my shift this evening.
Thirty minutes ago, the only thought on my mind was making it through my shift, picking up the twins from Ellie’s, and showering off this grime that feels like it’s embedded in my pores. Now, unease slithers down my spine to settle near my aching feet like lead.
My fingers hover over the phone keyboard like I’ve pressed pause on life. I almost drop my phone as the device vibrates in my hands with an incoming text.
Kam
If you want us to take it down, just say the word.
Take it down? What the hell does that mean?
Lila
What do you mean? Is everything okay?
The bubbles come and go on the screen as he types. With every disappearance of the bubbles, my anxiety doubles.
Kam
Everything’s fine! Just…don’t freak out when you see the backyard…
Lila
The backyard? What happened to the backyard?
Kam
Just come to your house instead of going to Ellie’s. It’ll all make sense soon.
Lila
Okay…I’m leaving now.
Kam
Drive safe, Sunshine.
The sunset bathes the familiar cars that line the street in a wash of warm pinks and oranges. Silence descends like a comforting cocoon as I cut the engine and rest my head against the headrest.
I fight a battle in my mind between curiosity and apprehension as I eye the gate to the backyard. Curiosity wins despite the relentless pounding of my heart against my ribs.
The chill of the autumn air burns my lungs compared to the heat I had blasting on my face in the car. My door slamming behind me reverberates through my bones as the sound of deep, distant laughter drifts on the gentle breeze.
Kam’s familiar laugh calms my racing heart as I dig my fingers into the rough wood of the gate. The shrill squeak of its hinges feels like nails on a chalkboard compared to the melody of voices just around the corner.
