Page 12 of Faded Rhythm

Sable

I wake up tangled in a mess of sheets. I’m not even completely sure I slept last night. I remember tossing and turning, but not much else. My neck aches, and there’s a dull stinging in my eyes that won’t quit. My body feels heavy, my nerves buzzing beneath my skin like they’ve been electrified.

Naked and damp, I stare at my reflection, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me. She has shadows under her eyes and stiffness in her shoulders. She looks like she aged ten years in one night. But worst of all, she looks lost.

I stare at her and wonder, where did I go?

I was so vibrant before. Laughing, singing, dancing. I had dreams. I had desires. I was so damn free before Brett. What the fuck happened to me?

My brows crinkle as a smell reaches my nose—bacon.

I freeze.

Panic rushes in so fast, I barely have time to grab a towel. I wrap it haphazardly around my body and yank open the bathroom door, hurrying barefoot down the hall, water dripping behind me.

The girls’ rooms are empty. Beds made.

Oh God.

Brett came home early.

I nearly trip as I take the stairs two at a time, heart pounding so hard, I think I’m having a medical emergency.

Then I see them.

They’re sitting at the breakfast bar, legs swinging, faces smeared with grease and syrup. Their giggles echo in the air while King stands at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes and telling jokes, apparently.

I clutch the towel tighter around myself as my breath catches in my throat. I don’t know whether I’m relieved or not.

This…doesn’t make sense.

It’s too normal. It’s too domestic. He was supposed to kill me last night. The man cooking breakfast for my babies had a gun pressed against my back yesterday. Now he’s standing in my kitchen like he belongs, looking good as hell, fitting right in like he was meant to be here.

“Mommy!”

His head turns toward me at the sound of Rae’s greeting. Ignoring him, I hug my daughters, pulling my towel tighter around me.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice lower than it should be in the cold light of the morning. His eyes flicker over me, and just for a second, they linger.

And I feel it.

Everywhere.

“Breakfast?” he asks, holding up a plate like he does this every day.

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

He nods and sets the plate down as my girls get back to their pancakes.

Then he approaches me, slowly, deliberately, and my stomach flips.

He lowers his voice. “Did you talk to your sister?”

I nod. “I did it over text. Just in case he has my phone tapped.”

“Smart,” he says, and the compliment surprises me. “Once the girls are safe with her, I’ll have my friend make the call letting him know you’re ‘gone.’”

I nod, watching the way his lips move, the sharp angle of his jaw, the perfectly trimmed goatee, and the way his black t-shirt clings to the outline of his broad chest. He smells like the soap in the guest bath, but there’s also a faint trace of his cologne.

Something woody, but slightly sweet. The smell makes something curl deep in my belly and I hate myself for it.

He takes a few steps back, thank God, but I make the mistake of locking eyes with him. There’s a jolt of familiarity, of connection, and I force myself to look away. I have to.

Without another word, I leave the kitchen to put my clothes on, and I feel his eyes on me.

I hate that I like it.

While King loads the girls’ luggage into the trunk of my car, I oversee them buckling themselves in.

“Auntie is so happy y’all are coming over,” I say with forced cheerfulness.

“What about school?” Kelice asks, fairly. “I have a spelling test today.”

“I know, baby. You’ll be able to make it up.” I blow out a sigh. “Henry’s happy to see y’all, too.”

That little deflection did what it was supposed to.

The girls jump and squeal in their seats.

Brett wouldn’t let them get a dog, so Ebony’s golden doodle Henry is their furry best friend.

I still don’t know why she gave him a name that makes him sound like he has a nine-to-five and a mortgage, but he’s adorable.

The drive over to Ebony’s is quiet, but my thoughts are anything but.

Every few minutes, I give King a sideways glance, wondering how we got here. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was a stranger. A stranger with a gun and a plan. And now? He’s…something else.

And this situation is extremely difficult to reconcile, as is the fact that I lowkey feel safe with this man. For now.

And that’s the other thing. I’m living in the moment for the first time in as long as I can remember. No clear plan, no clear destination. It’s scary, but there’s also this other feeling, a feeling I hate. And that’s the pulse of something I haven’t felt in years.

I feel alive .

As soon as we pull into Ebony’s driveway, Rae’s little feet start moving a mile a minute against the back of my seat. Even from the car, I see the worry on Ebony’s face as soon as she opens the door.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to King as I exit and follow the girls up the driveway.

They give their auntie a hug, but they really want Henry, so they disappear into the house and head toward his room—yes, he has his own room.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes scanning the driveway and landing on King behind the wheel. “Who is th—“

“You promised you wouldn’t ask questions,” I remind her, trying to keep my voice calm. “Just…watch the girls for me. That’s all I need.”

Her lower lip trembles. “Sable…”

Tears well up in my eyes. I hate lying to my sister. I hate making her worry. But this is literally life and death, so I wrap my arms around myself, bracing for the next part.

“Somebody might call you,” I say slowly. “And they might tell you I’m dead. Don’t believe it.”

Her eyes flood. “What the fuck, Sable?”

I shake my head. “Trust me, okay? I’m fine. I’m gonna be fine. But this is serious. Do not tell Brett anything. In fact, don’t answer his calls and don’t open the door if he comes by.”

She’s shaking her head as tears spill over her cheeks. “This is insane. You’re really not gonna tell me?”

“Just…take care of my babies. I’ll be back for them soon. I promise.”

She seems to understand. She pulls me into a tight hug, her tears wetting my shoulder. I hold on just for a second, then break away before I break down.

When I slide back into my seat, King glances over at me, his face blank, as always.

“You good?”

“No,” I say with a hoarse voice. “But thanks for asking.”

He nods. “You hungry?”

“I don’t eat when I’m nervous.”

He quirks a brow. “Is that how you stay so…” he trails off, but it’s too late.

“So what?” I snap, annoyed.

He doesn’t answer. He just pulls out of the driveway.

I bite the inside of my cheek, telling myself not to care. But I do. I care too much already.

Ten minutes later, we pull into a hotel parking lot. King pulls out his phone, dials a number, then puts the call on speaker.

The man who answers has a voice like steel. It’s cold and controlled, much like King’s voice when we first met.

I just realized he doesn’t sound as much like that today.

The man dials another number and I hear my husband’s weaselly voice.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Brett Graves?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Mr. Graves, this is deputy Marshall Bernard with the Hillside County police department. Are you somewhere private?”

“I’m in my hotel room in Chattanooga,” Brett announces.

“Well, sir, I’m very sorry to inform you that your wife has been found deceased.”

I close my eyes, bracing myself.

Brett doesn’t even pause to let the news sink in. He launches into gasping sobs, moaning like he’s auditioning for a soap opera.

“My God…nooooo! How could this happen? What am I supposed to tell my daughters?” he wails. “My wife! My beautiful wife!”

I open my eyes and roll them. The back of my tongue tastes bitter.

This man never calls me beautiful unless there’s somebody else around to hear it.

The man pretending to Officer Bernard keeps it clinical. “How soon can you make it back to Atlanta, Mr. Graves?”

“I’ll be on the first flight ouuuuuuuut!” he cries.

“Good. We’ll need you here as soon as possible for questioning. Investigators will want to speak with you directly.”

“Of course,” he says. “Oh, God. My poor little girls…”

Then he hangs up.

It’s silent for a moment, then King thanks the man and ends the call.

A bitter laugh bursts out of me. “I can’t believe I ever loved that man.”

King glances at me, surprised, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, he points to the hotel.

“I got a room. We should head in. We got work to do.”

I nod and open my door, stepping out onto the pavement and into the unknown. My pulse is racing. My legs are shaky. I know nothing will ever be the same again, and that’s terrifying.

But also…I don’t want it to be.