Page 70 of Shadowed With Fear

“Grays.” And I wait.

“Grayson!” I call again, but I don’t hear anything on the other side. I crack the door, glancing around his room, and seeing it’s empty.

The door sends a burst of cool wind my way when I jerk it open, tiptoeing across his carpet, rushing to shut his bedroom door before anyone can see me. I mean, hell, the towel barely wraps around my chest fully, and I know that one slight move, and my stomach and hip won’t be the only thing on display.

With the door securely shut, I look around noting the differences in his room and Brahm’s and especially how similar it is to my own.

Dark gray walls, black sheets, one shelf displaying his collection of vintage cameras—many a gift from my mom—, and the numerous posters decorating the walls. Movies, bands, video games, and the majority being smaller black and white stills.

My fingers reach out to the one hanging by his door. It’s a gorgeous shot of the Tennabris skyline. Crisp and clean composition.

The other that catches my eye is of a rose, petals glistening with what might be dew. Although the image is stunning, what has my attention the most is the faint outline of the letter B behind it. Jaggedly hewn against white painted siding.

It’s our house. The rose must be one from my mom’s bushes, because the B looks identical to the one that Brahm had carved into the house when he was thirteen.

He and Grayson had carved their initials there, and my mom was livid, despite the fact she never attempted to cover it.

Grayson took these pictures. These beautiful works of art.

“After all these years, you still surprise me,” I whisper, feeling the featherlight flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

I look around his room, surprisingly tidy, aside from the hoodie in his desk chair and the duffel bag sitting beside it. Everything has a place, so finding clothes should be relatively easy, if I can find something that’ll fit.

“Need to find extra-large. Extra-large,” I mumbled digging through his dresser.

This might be harder than I thought.

Grayson isn’t really skinny by any means, but he’s all sharp angles, and tall making him look lithe. I’m all rounded edges and curves, so while there may be a dozen shirts here the right size, they are not the right fit.

I huff. I’m already drying from the shower just hunting for something to wear.

“Aha!”

In the bottom drawer I found a pair of stretchy sleeping pants, and quickly pulled them on, but still no shirt.

In the corner of my eye, I spotted the hoodie on his chair. I walk over, checking the tag and to my absolute delight, it says 2X.

After a small happy dance, I slip my arms through the sleeves and pull it over my head. I’m instantly hit with such a familiar smell. I bury my nose into the collar inhaling deeply. Leather, cedarwood, and something warm.

The scent draws my mind to the night at Midnight Manor, the way Shadow’s lips traced the back of my neck and the strange feeling of something on his lips.

My eyes snap open.

No. I’m losing it. Long day.

I laugh at myself, dropping my hands from the collar to the pocket, but my right hand misses the opening. I glance down and see it.

The fabric of the pocket hanging loosely on one side, a small hole where the seam had been attacked.

My stomach drops, and I take a step back, stumbling over his duffel bag, knocking stuff out of it.

It’s just a coincidence. Who knows? This might be a super old hoodie.

I shake my head kneeling down to put everything back inside the bag.

A couple of SD cards, a folder with a couple of pieces of paper, and a shirt. I’m carefully placing everything inside when my hand brushes against cool plastic. I pause, tracing a sharp rounded edge. My fingers curl around it, slowly pulling it out.

Staring back at me is the endless voids I have dreamed of getting lost in, surrounded by that stark white canvas.