Page 13

THIRTEEN

DAYTON

S he’s in my room.

It’s been three days, and she’s still in my room.

I lean against the doorframe, silently watching her. The amber lighting from the setting sun filters through the tall windows, casting a soft glow over her delicate figure. She’s curled up in the window seat on the other side of my bed, a small sketchbook balanced on her knees. Her dark, honey-colored waves cascade over her shoulders, slightly shorter now after the trim she gave herself the other day, the new bangs framing her face and brushing her cheeks as she works quietly.

Levi and I went over yesterday and picked up the rest of her belongings from her dorm. And now, she’s made herself at home here—in my room. My space smells like her now: vanilla, a hint of floral perfume, and something uniquely hers that I can’t place. Every time I walk in, I’m greeted by the scent, and it’s as intoxicating as it is unsettling.

His misery is pure joy for me, personally.

Must be the brother thing.

Sable looks up at me as I clear my throat softly, peeling myself away from the doorframe. She gives me a small smile, one of those tired but genuine smiles.

“Hey. I was going to go study,” I say, pretending to be casual. Like I haven’t been staring at her for several minutes like a psychopath. “Did you want to come?”

She sighs, placing the pad beside her, closes the front cover and places her pencil on top of it. “Yeah, I really should. I have a test coming up.”

She stands, stretching her arms above her head, and I catch a glimpse of her toned stomach as her cropped hoodie rides up slightly. I notice a small tattoo on her ribs and I smile. The guys and I are pretty tatted up, but she has just small, more meaningful ones. I wonder if one day she will tell me all the stories behind them. My eyes linger for a second too long before I snap back to reality.

I grab my backpack from the chair by my desk and sling it over my shoulder. “Let’s go,” I say, holding the door open for her.

The walk to the library is short, the crisp fall air biting at our skin as we make our way across campus. Our conversation sticks to the basics—classes, assignments, professors. She avoids any talk about Asher, and I don’t push her. Death has a way of hollowing people out from the inside, especially when they don’t let themselves process it. I know that all too well. You think you’re fine until the silence wraps itself around you, until the loss becomes more than just an event and starts gnawing at the edges of your mind. If she keeps bottling it up, it’ll eat away at her.

The pillars outside the library are covered in ivy, almost completely obscuring the small lanterns on either side of the wooden doors. I open the heavy wooden doors, letting Sable walk ahead of me. Her scent hits me again—floral, warm, but with a faint hint of my own cologne. She must have slept in my bed again last night. There’s something strangely intimate about that knowledge, more so than I’d like to admit.

Inside, the library is quiet, save for the faint sound of clicking keys and the occasional whisper. Sable leads me to a spot in the back corner, a secluded nook surrounded by towering shelves of books. The lighting is a tad dimmer over here, perfect for a bit of privacy.

She sets her sketchbook on the table, meticulously arranging her pencils beside it with a precision that borders on obsession. It’s cute, watching her little routines, the way she brushes off invisible specks of dust from the table before sitting down. Yesterday, she spent half the day reorganizing my candle collection, grouping them by brand, scent, and how much was left in each jar. I almost laughed when she got frustrated because I pulled a fresh one from the back to light instead of using one that was already half-burned.

It’s those small quirks that make her... well, her.

I sit down across from her, setting my bag beside the chair and pulling out my own books, though I can’t help but glance up at her every so often. There’s something comforting about her presence here, in my space, but it’s also a little unnerving. I’ve never shared this much of my life with anyone before—not like this. Not even with the other guys.

She’s quiet as she flips through her sketchbook, her brow furrowed in concentration. I can see her fingers twitching slightly as she studies her latest drawing, her mind undoubtedly lost in the details. I wonder what she’s thinking about—if she’s thinking about the same things as I am.

I pull out my notes, flipping through the pages, but my eyes keep drifting back to her. After a few minutes, she looks up, catching my gaze. She bites her lip, her expression softening for a moment. “Thanks for... you know... everything. Letting me stay in your room. I know it’s not ideal.”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “You’re fine. Honestly, I’m used to dealing with the other’s bullshit all the time, so having you around is an upgrade.”

She laughs softly. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.” I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table. “You’re not a burden, Sable.”

She studies me for a moment, her eyes searching mine as if trying to find the catch. Like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for me to tell her she’s overstayed her welcome, that she’s intruding on my space, on my life. But I won’t say that. Because as much as this whole situation is messed up, having her here feels... right.

She breaks the gaze first, looking down at her sketchbook, her fingers tracing the edge of the paper absently. “I just don’t know how to process any of this. I keep thinking about Asher and Toby and... I don’t know, it feels like everything’s spiraling. I really hope they catch who did this.”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and for the first time, I see a crack in the armor she’s built around herself. She’s been holding it together, pretending like she’s fine, but I can see the weight of everything pressing down on her now.

I reach across the table, my fingers brushing hers for just a moment. “You don’t have to process it all right now. Just take it one day at a time. I’m not going anywhere.”

She nods, though her expression doesn’t quite match her agreement.

We fall into a comfortable silence after that, the only sounds the soft scratch of her pencil on paper and the distant hum of the library.

After a while, I glance up and find her watching me. Her hazel eyes, with their brown edges and yellow speckles, catch the light just right, making them appear almost golden.

I catch her watching me. My brow raises as a smirk tugs at my lips.

“What?”

She smiles, a soft, secretive smile. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?” I prod, leaning in slightly.

She blushes lightly, the pink flush creeping up her cheeks. “This feels... like a date.”

I sit back in my chair, my smirk widening into a grin. A date? That idea flutters through my mind, and I can’t help but let it linger.

“Yeah?” I say, leaning back in my chair with a teasing grin. “I guess it kinda does. Almost like we’re just two regular college students on a study date.”

Her blush deepens, and she looks away, smiling to herself as if the idea surprises her, too. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Something about it makes my chest tighten. The thought of this being a date, even just a casual, unintended one, sends a warmth through me. I’m not sure when I started wanting this with her, but now that the thought’s in my head, I don’t want it to leave.

“I need a break,” she says, standing up.

“Coffee?” I suggest.

She nods eagerly. “I’ll go grab us some.” Before I can even offer to go by myself, she’s already heading toward the café tucked in the corner of the library.

If this was a date, I wouldn’t mind. Not one bit. A few moments later, she comes back, cradling two cups. “So,” she hands me my own cup, and I nod, thanking her, “what is next on your studying agenda, Mr. Hughes?”

This thing between us—it’s easy. Easier than I expected. She’s barely said a word to the other guys, avoids Silas like the plague, but with me? It’s different. She gravitates toward me, and I don’t mind it one bit. It pisses Silas off, makes Kai roll his eyes, and Levi... well, he’s too wrapped up in his senior project to care, but I know it’s only a matter of time before he does.

“Acing my poli-sci paper, charming my professors, and, of course, making sure a certain someone is taken care of.”

Her smile falters slightly. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know. I’ll probably head back to my dorm in a couple of days. Heather said the investigation was almost wrapped up, and... I don’t want to impose anymore.”

I frown, setting my coffee down. “You’re not imposing. Besides, Kai’s been having a blast tormenting Levi. They’re practically inseparable now.”

She giggles, and it’s a sound I could get used to. “Kai and Levi? Really?”

I nod. “Yeah, the two of them met my freshman year. Kai was a pledge, and Levi hazed the shit out of him.”

“Have they always been—” Her voice trails out, almost uncomfortable to talk about it.

“Bisexual? No. And honestly, if you asked them, I’m not sure they’d put a label on anything between them. It’s almost like a soulmate bond. I’ve never seen my brother open up to anyone until he met Kai.”

Her eyebrow raises softly. “Yeah… we’ve practically known each other since the end of middle school and I never knew you even had a brother.”

“He’s the shadow of his father, that’s for sure.”

Sable’s face slants slightly. And there’s a pause in our conversation. I can tell her mind is elsewhere and I want nothing more than to drag her back into my space.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Anything. Everything. Whatever’s on your mind.”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know, Dayton. The murders, the nightmares, being forced to stay at the DSN house... It’s a lot.”

Nightmares? I didn’t know she was having nightmares.

I can’t kill something that’s in her dreams.

Goddammit.

I reach out and squeeze her hand, and she lets me touch her briefly before we go back to our work. I’m halfway through a sentence in my textbook when I hear Sable’s sharp intake of breath. I look up to find her staring at the pages of the book in front of her, her face pale and eyes wide.

“Dayton,” she says, her voice trembling slightly as she pushes the book toward me. “Look at this.”

I lean forward, my eyes narrowing as I glance down at the book she’s opened. There, on the delicate, yellowing page, is a bloodied upside-down cross—smeared into the paper like someone had violently scratched it in with the very blood that now stains the page.

A chill creeps down my spine, the same kind I felt that night at the house when we found the note.

And outside the manor

“What the hell...” I mutter, blinking a few times.

“It was in this art book,” she says, her voice shaky as she gestures toward the page. “Is that blood?”

I frown, my mind struggling to catch up. “Sure fucking is.”

She looks at me in horror, her breath coming quicker. It’s like she’s trying to force the memory out of the recesses of her mind. But the longer I stare at the upside-down cross, the more uneasy I feel.

“I’ve seen this before,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper as the bloodied cross from Levi’s room flashes in my mind. “Back at the house. The same damn cross, painted in blood. It was outside, on the mailbox, the night Toby died.”

Her eyes widen in horror, and she swallows hard, the color draining from her face. “What… What does it mean? Why would it be in my art book? This is my actual textbook. I’ve never seen it before today.”

I don’t have an answer for her.

She turns away, heading for the bathroom. “I’m going to go to the restroom really quickly, then we can head back. I’m done studying,” she mumbles, her voice shaky.

“Sure, take your time,” I say, trying to sound casual, but there’s nothing casual about this. As soon as she’s out of sight, I grab my phone, my hands moving quickly.

The Four Horsemen GC

Me

*Sends a picture of the symbol* We need to figure out what the fuck this is.

Mala-Kaiser roll

Have you tried Google?

Me

HaVe YoU tRiEd GoOgLe.*Squinting chicken gif*

LemmelickLevi

Fuck off, D.

SourSilas

Where is she?

Me

Library. With me.

SourSilas

*sends a photo of Sable talking to a girl* Then why is she talking to Icky Vicky?

I stare at the message, my stomach twisting in knots. Vicky? What the hell would she want with Sable? My mind races, and before I can think twice, I shove my phone into my pocket and jump up from my seat, hastily grabbing Sable’s belongings.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter under my breath, slamming her sketchbook shut as I scan the library for her. Vicky is not someone I want her tangled up with, especially not now. Something’s wrong, and it’s not just the symbol. It’s the whole vibe that’s been building up around her—around us—ever since Asher died.