Page 8 of Dark Things (Payback Duet #1)

Colter

M y breath quickens as the ball is snapped into my waiting hands. I look out and find Staff open in the distance. I launch the ball, excitement thrumming through me, as I wait for him to make the play.

The sound of helmets clashing surrounds me, but my focus is on Staff and his ability to defy gravity as he leaps in the air, catching the ball and making the first down.

This is only practice, but damn, it feels good every time we make a play. “That’s it, Staff!” I shout as the guys run back to our huddle.

“Awesome play,” Haunt says. He’s been here for a few practices so far and seems nice enough, even if the girl he was with the other day is standoffish.

How he got on the team as a senior is a mystery.

I don’t even think he’s played ball for a college team before, but that's the coach's problem. I just execute the plays and win games.

“Thanks, let’s switch this up a bit. Spread left, X Ringo 32 smash. Break,” I call, the boys lining up in formation. Haunt takes off and weaves in between the defense, so fast it’s almost impossible to track his movements, but I see the opening and let the ball fly.

“Get it, Haunt!” I scream before stepping back to watch.

He catches the ball, running at full speed. Staff is right behind him with another player blocking to his left. He speeds past the end zone, scoring.

“That’s it! Fucking hell, did you see that?” Clark asks from next to me, slapping my shoulder. “He’s going to be fire in the first game. New Paltz isn’t going to know what hit them.”

“Yeah, he’s proving to be better than I thought,” I reply, checking the next play we need to work on. Maybe senior year will go better than anticipated. If we make it to the playoffs and then championship, getting drafted into the NFL might be guaranteed.

I slam my locker closed, exhausted from practice. I just want to go home and eat my weight in something I’m not supposed to and sleep until tomorrow. The rest of the players are gone, leaving only Staff, Brooks, and me in the locker room .

“So then she starts correcting my knowledge on continuity analysis. I couldn’t believe the balls on this chick. I mean me, Stafford-fucking-Fitzgerald, challenged in Mathematical Analysis.”

I chuckle as I walk around the locker banks to see Staff telling his sob story to Brooks, who looks like he could not care less about this baby tantrum.

“She’s hot, though,” Brooks says, slipping on his T-shirt.

“Yeah, but when I approached them after class she was so angry. I have no idea what it was about, maybe Colt spilling coffee on her? I don’t know, but there’s definitely something about her. And when she walked away…”

“That ass, right?” I ask, smirking. I take a seat on the bench next to my two best friends. Most times Staff doesn’t notice girls. He leans towards going out with guys, so she must be something special for him to take notice of.

“It was like a ripe fucking juicy peach, but that’s besides the point. She was so smug about it.” He slams his locker closed, grabbing his backpack and stalking toward the door.

“How dare she,” Brooks whispers in my ear, a bright smile on his face.

“I heard that, dipshit,” Staff calls from up ahead, causing both Brooks and I to chuckle.

“Don’t be so butt-hurt. Maybe you met your equal in math dorkiness,” I say, swerving around the hit that’s coming my way.

He scowls, squinting his eyes before continuing on. “I have no equal.”

Now Brooks and I are full out laughing. Staff’s face is so serious; he truly believes he has no competition when it comes to being a genius—well, not since Belle, but that’s something I choose not to think about. It hurts too much, even after all these years.

“Enough talk about the new girl. Let’s think about what we’re eating for dinner. Pizza, Chinese, or maybe Mexican?” Brooks asks, getting his phone out.

“I vote for tacos. I could devour a few of those birra ones that we got the last time,” I say, mouth salivating thinking about all that goodness.

Brooks makes a humming noise, pulling up the delivery app.

“Staff? Chicken or fish?” he asks, because even though we should all be eating healthy, Staff is the strictest of us.

I think he’s had fun a whole ten times in the last five years.

The rest is rules, traditions, and regimens.

His whole personality changed. He’s no longer the prankster who used to cause mischief.

He even wears suits most of the time like a forty-year-old CEO.

“Fish, but only two and get an order of guacamole so I can eat it with the cut veggies I made this morning.”

I gag behind my hand, watching Brooks type in our order as we get into Staff’s Audi. It doesn’t make sense for us all to drive since we share a house on the outskirts of campus.

“Should be here in forty minutes,” Brooks says, sliding into the backseat while I take the passenger.

We ride in silence for a while, my mind drifting to the one person I can never get rid of, even if it’s been five years since I last saw or held her.

Aside from Brooks and Staff, Belle was the only other person I imagined spending my life with.

The four of us were supposed to be destined, growing up in the shadows of our parents, finally stepping into the light when we all attended college together.

Living on campus with a freedom we never had before was a dream we all shared.

Fuck, I miss her.

As if he’s reading my mind, Brooks pipes up from the backseat, “You know what today is, right?”

I cringe, staring out the passenger window. I know what today is, but I didn’t want to mention it. It’s bad enough I had to live through it the first time.

“Yeah, it’s probably why my day went to shit. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what today’s date is,” Staff says, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“It’s burned in my brain. Everything about that day. How we were supposed to be together, not separated, and how I found her,” I say, my voice cracking with pain. If only she hadn’t gone looking for me.

“Have you heard anything?” Brooks asks, his voice defeated .

Staff turns into our street and then the driveway before I answer.

“You think if I found out something, I wouldn’t tell you?

It’s the whole reason why we’re working with Mario.

I haven’t heard anything new, not since she was released from juvie.

It’s like she disappeared after that. She’s just gone.

Not that she’d want to speak to any of us, anyway.

We left her, were forced to stand back while she went through all of that, alone. ”

Brooks growls from the backseat before getting out. He took what happened to Belle harder than he let on. While Belle and I grew up together, she and Brooks had a special bond. They were like magnets or planets, always being pulled toward one another.

“You both have to accept that she’s gone. It’s been five years. She’s not coming back, and we need to move on,” Staff says, pushing the door open to our house.

The house isn't as big as some in the area, but it suits us perfectly.

Big enough that we're comfortable, but not so big that we ever feel alone.

After what our families did, we've all refused to be a part of their daily lives.

The only time we've budged even a little, aside from the few times we've had to make appearances, was taking the money from them to buy this house.

To ensure we have our safe haven from the world and all the shit that comes with it.

“You don’t know that,” I say, pushing past him to head upstairs to get changed.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s voiced this, but every time it’s like a piece of hope is cut off.

I want to believe we’ll find her. I want to believe that she’s better off where she is, but a part of me will never let go.

I open the door to my room and immediately know something is wrong.

The window is open and my curtains are fluttering in the breeze.

I always close the window before I leave.

My eyes dart around the room, trying to see if anything is missing, but nothing seems out of place.

Then they land on a wooden handle sticking out of my mattress, surrounded by a layer of feathers.

“What the fuck?” I say, walking over to the bed.

There’s a knife sticking out of one of my pillows. Nothing else, no note or anything else touched, just a knife buried deep in the feathers.

The handle looks familiar, but I don’t know where I would have seen it before. “Guys!” I yell.

Footsteps sound on the stairs before Brooks and Staff are standing next to me. A cold shiver races up my back as I stare at the knife.

“What is that?” Brooks says, moving closer. His hand is outstretched before Staff stops him.

“Don’t touch it, there could be fingerprints on it,” Staff says, taking a closer look.

His eyes meet mine, and I know he’s noticed it, too. “This handle it’s just like the one that killed Nathan.”

Fuck. This is not good. On the anniversary of his death. The day our worlds crumbled. The day they took Belle from us and forced us to leave her behind to protect their own legacies.

“It could be a coincidence? I mean, who the fuck would know about that shit. All the records were sealed, and we were minors. Aren't there laws against that?” Brooks asks, turning to me.

“Just because my douchebag parents are lawyers doesn’t mean I know about the law. But I don’t believe in coincidences, and this feels like something else.”

I grab a tissue from the dresser and grasp the handle before pulling it out. The blade looks deadly, like someone sharpened it before it was stuck in my pillows.

“I’ll grab a plastic bag to put it in. Maybe the last PI you hired can dust for prints?” Brooks asks, before walking out the door.

“I don’t like this. My gut is telling me this is related,” I say, taking my eyes off the blade and watching Staff’s pinched eyebrows as he looks closer at the mattress.

“We have to get to the bottom of this. Could someone else know what went down that day? Could Mario have found out about what really happened? I thought your parents cleaned it up,” Staff says.

Brooks comes back, opening the bag, and I gently place the knife inside. I close it up and put it down on my desk.

Letting out a breath, I look over at the two of them. “They did, but there’s always a chance someone could have talked. Honestly, I’ve been waiting for the moment when this blew up in our faces. It’s been five years, but I don’t deserve the freedom I’ve had.”

Before they can argue that point, I pull out my phone and dial the PI. Now to make up a story on why there would be a knife in my bed. Because one thing is certain, I can never tell anyone else what happened that day besides Staff and Brooks.