Page 4

CHAPTER 4

REDLEY

“I’m not here,” he whispers. “No one can know I’m here.”

My single bed is barely big enough for me, yet it overflows with a man three times my size. Booted feet hang over the edge, and his head lays propped against the headboard. I open my mouth to scream for help but hesitate with the hot shape of Granny’s hand still on my cheek.

What would it look like to her? The question runs through my mind, a self-preservation instinct I don’t plan to ignore. I’m not allowed to have boys in here, let alone whoever he is, so I can’t imagine she’ll believe me if I say he just showed up and climbed in.

He places one finger against his lips, asking for my silence, and mouths, “ Please. ” That’s what ultimately tips my decision in his favor, that or some deep sucker tendencies.

He’s definitely older than me, but I’m not sure how old, maybe nineteen or twenty. Muscles cover his body, long brown hair hangs to his chin, and his eyes shine the strangest shade of yellow. He’s very handsome, and I wish the fact that he was covered in blood took away from that, but it doesn’t. Apparently, I have a thing for beat-up-looking guys. A bag sits beside him on the bed, but it doesn’t look like it’s for hiking.

I pick out a few injuries and decide the blood is probably his, or enough of it, anyway, to consider him less of a threat. A bunch of injuries cover his huge body—bruises, cuts, and ripped clothes. Despite the fact they’re ripped, they’re expensive and fancy. Nothing like what we wear out here on the mountain, even nicer than Bobby’s clothes.

“You need to leave before she finds you here,” I tell him, praying to God he’s just a nice man who will listen. Yeah, breaking and entering is bad, but there isn’t much in the way of shelter out here, and he is hurt.

He shakes his head just once. “Can’t.”

“But you have to,” I argue. He shakes his head again.

His features twist in pain, and my heart twists a little with them. I don’t trust him for anything, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing something suffer. Keeping quiet seems like my safest bet in every direction. I’m afraid of what Granny will do to me, but what could this guy do to us both? My granny and I could wind up dead if I don’t play my cards right.

The window sits open, his blood smeared over the ledge, which explains how he got in here. My heart pounds so loud it vibrates in my ears, and shots of adrenaline explode inside me. The fact Heather was killed today—or died, I guess, depending who you ask—sits on my mind, and I wonder if this could be him, the Wolf.

But why would the Wolf show up hurt in my bedroom? I don’t know if that monster even can hurt.

“How did you make it in here if you can’t make it back out?” I nod to the windowsill covered in his blood. “You must have climbed in.”

My eyes slide over him as I frantically attempt to form a plan, but no answers occur to me, just questions and frightening possibilities. If he’s not the Wolf, then who the hell is he?

“How are you letting a little old lady slap you stupid over a loaf of bread?” he asks with an attitude that seems out of place for someone making such an imposition of himself.

I’m surprised he heard all that and more surprised he would comment on it, but I don’t disagree with him. It’s hard to explain why I let Granny hit me when it’s so clear she only does it for fun and to be mean. I can’t remember the last time I did something wrong on purpose.

“Her house, her rules,” I tell him without even a trace of bitterness in my tone.

She could have left me to fend for myself. After the rest of my family was killed, I walked up to Granny’s all alone with nothing but a basket of my things, and she never turned me away. The Wolf may have even come back to finish the job, but I was already here with her. I can’t think about things like fair or earned.

“From what I heard, she’s just a mean old bitch,” he says.

“Don’t be an asshole. You’re a guest,” I tell him.

“I broke in,” he groans as he slips down the headboard and lays a little heavier against the bed than before. “I think by virtue of my entrance, I’m free from having to be polite.”

I laugh, and with that, some more of my fear subsides. He struggles to breathe as he pulls his knees up on the bed and rolls to his side in a position that will open his lungs. Did something crush him? Rockslides happen a lot around here, though most of the time you hear the big ones. My hand involuntarily traces my cheek as he watches me from my own bed.

“Come here, let me see that.” He waves me over, and I just ignore him, an expression on my face like he’s crazy to think I would.

“Let me see how bad it is.” He makes a similar gesture with his chin, but I stay in place.

“It’s not bad. It’s one slap from an old lady. Someone should be looking at you .”

“Maybe.” He laughs, and his eyes roll right before he gives up and drops his head back against my pillow—one short groan of pain and the rustle of fabric, and then silence.

A minute passes before he reaches into his bag and starts sifting through the things inside it. As he moves, a black rectangle slides out. My interest immediately piques when I see the two holes through it. Despite what I just said, I step toward him.

“Is that a cassette?” I ask before I can think better of it. I slam my lips shut, stopping myself from letting my curiosity fully get the better of me.

“Do I have something you want now?” he asks as he holds it up for me to see.

Elvis’s Greatest Hits is written across the plastic, and I can’t believe it’s actually what I think it is.

“Never mind,” I lie, pretending I haven’t been dying to hear a cassette in action.

“You want me to play it for you?” He pats the bed beside him, but I don’t trust his intentions.

A few people around town have record players. Bobby’s dad even brings him home the latest ones when he comes back from “working” in the city, but I’ve only heard rumors about these from Bobby and have seen a few pictures in magazines.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell him, instantly regretting not taking him up on it.

He seems surprised, but he hides his disappointment well. “Fine then.”

A pinky slides into one of the holes, and he twists the plastic around it. He’s taunting me, and it’s working. I yield eventually, but instead of getting close to him like he requested, I decide to sit in the old chair near his feet. His eyes follow me as I move, not giving up until I fully sit and exhale. The contrast between the yellow iris and black pupil is beautiful and so bizarre. He holds up the little black plastic between us, his pinky still inside.

“Get me some water, and I’ll play this for you. I know you’re curious.”

I shake my head sharp and quick instead of responding, but the temptation building inside me is hard as heck to deny. I can’t, though. There’s no way I’m going to risk Granny’s wrath so soon, or leave this guy alone when I’m not sure what he’s up to.

“Oh, come on,” he tempts me. “You know you want to.” I feel like he’s the devil leading me straight into temptation, but dammit, I do want to hear that cassette.

“No, I’d rather not let a little old lady slap me over a glass of water too.”

He snorts. “Consider it getting slapped for Elvis then if that helps.”

That does help.

“We’re stuck with each other for the moment,” I tell him.

“I’ll need some water if you want me out, and you do want me out, more than I want to go,” he adds to the mix, sweetening the pot. I may be oddly enjoying myself, but who knows how abruptly that might end. I need to be careful.

“Maybe I don’t mind you being here as much as I thought I would,” I say.

“High praise.”

We’re both quiet after that. I planned to lie on that bed and think about what life might be like one day when I’m free, and now I’m having the strangest conversation of my life. Granny said I was trying to kill her, and while that’s very far from the truth, I can’t help but wonder what freedom might look like when she’s gone.

I don’t have illusions of leaving home at eighteen. She needs me here, but once she doesn’t? There has to be a big wide world outside of Grimm Groves. The cassette in his hand feels like well-timed proof that that's true.

“So if you’re not going to leave, tell me what happened to you.” I wait for his answer, and nothing comes. Shaking my head at his rudeness, I decide to needle him just a little. “You look awfully big to lose a fight.”

“I didn’t.”

“Of course not.” Typical man. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

I roll my eyes. This is getting me places.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I ask the question that weighs on me the most even though he’s practically allergic to answering questions.

This time, he laughs, and the sound carries a faint hint of evil. It makes me even more nervous.

“Sure, if I don’t get some water.”

My eyes meet his, and fear drips through me along with something else, but he’s not serious. He’s not going to hurt me right now. I’m not sure that he can with how badly he’s hurt.

“A no would have sufficed.” My eyes crinkle at the edge. Have I ever looked this closely at another person, even when I kissed Bobby?

No, I haven’t.

“Why should I lie?” he asks, and even the question feels like a lie.

“If you’re so honest, then who are you?” I ask with our eyes still searching one another.

“No one.” His deep voice reminds me of the rockslides I fear crushed him.

“Then why are you in my room, lying in the bed I was looking forward to?”

“I’m not.” His mouth kicks up at the side, and I realize he’s so handsome he’s making me crazy. That’s why I haven’t screamed. That’s why I’m sitting here instead of running.

“Is someone looking for you?”

The slyest smile turns up the side of his mouth. “Well, if they are, it’s in your best interest if they don’t find me.”

I think I want to kiss him.