Page 7 of Fright Night (Twisted Holidays #3)

SIX

OAKLEY

My hands, sweating now, fist by my sides.

It’s all I have; all I can do because I’m an idiot who backed herself into a wall with someone who, by all accounts, shouldn’t hurt me.

But the bonds that once existed between us dissolved with his arrest—my lie—and time apart.

I don’t know who this man is anymore, or what he’ll do if angered.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his head tilting to the side. Hair falls away from his eyes, revealing the pretence he’s losing breath by breath. “Your pulse. It’s rapid because you’re afraid.”

Obviously. “Is this the part where you try to reassure me there’s no need to be scared?”

His chuckle is one that’d be found in the depths of Hell, with the demons who reside there, if such a place were real. “It’s the part I ask how fear makes you truly feel. Don’t say anxious, because that’d be a lie.”

Alive. It’s something I’ll never admit to him or anyone else. Something that has me questioning my own sanity.

His thumb sweeps down the column of my neck and I bite the corner of my lip to prevent from making an audible noise that’ll let him know how good his touch feels.

How I should be terrified of this man, and demanding answers, most notably the one regarding why I woke to his cum staining my back yesterday.

His other hand skates from the wall to my face, pressing into the same spot on my mouth that I’m biting onto. He makes a sucking noise with his teeth, and demands, “I want answers.”

“ You want answers? How about mine? Like the fact you’ve broken into my house on more than one occasion and—” My words cut off, eyes flicking to the bedroom to our left, unsure how to put it all into something decipherable.

“Told you, I’ve missed you.”

“Coming on my back was the way to show that?”

His smile is so wide and manic; it’s terror-inducing. Heart-pounding. Blood racing.

Core clenching. But that last one is a symptom of insanity, not lust.

“You got my video, eh? Good. What’d you think of my trick, Trickster?”

“You’re disgusting.”

His thumb taps my pulse. “This states otherwise, but please, keep lying. You looked so pretty, lying there asleep. So lovely and safe, and you needed a reminder of why all that’s false. It’s been years but not one day has passed where you haven’t been on my mind.”

Ditto. But probably for different reasons. My thoughts centred on his well-being and my guilt, wanting to speak with him and apologize. His thoughts were probably centred on his loathing for me and every cruel thing he wants to do.

His presence gives me the chance to finally apologize, but none of this is going how I ever imagined our reunion would be.

Instead, I say something defensive because it seems to be the only way I know how to be around him. “It’s sick. Breaking and entering and then that .”

His lip curls, mocking. “Gonna report me to the police…again?”

I should. With a criminal record behind him, even Henry wouldn’t be able to help him. The first time was undeserving and my fault, but this potential second time, in retaliation to his actions, would be different.

“I won’t report it if you tell me what you want so badly that you’ve stalked me for the past two days.”

“Was it only two days?” he asks in a tone that makes me second-guess everything over the past month.

That makes me stare down the hallway, trying to reimagine every trip to work, every night in bed, every waking minute he could have been watching me, all unknown.

“The time doesn’t matter,” he continues, though it very much does, “unless you finally answer my question. Why did you lie to the police? Since my father dragged me away so soon after court, I never got the chance to ask.”

Because I’m an idiot who took a joke too far.

For the first time in years, I breathe. There’s a sense of weightlessness about to be unleashed. Guilt to be resolved and removed for good—finally.

“Trickster,” I whisper his name for me as though that explains everything. “The game. It was my turn, and I…”

“You got me arrested for a stupid game ?”

Dumbass me didn’t think anything through back then.

“I assumed it wouldn’t turn into anything and we’d laugh about it afterwards.

That you might even have appreciated it.

I guessed your dad would pull some strings and get you free.

” Which is what happened, but I was an idiotic eighteen-year-old with zero concept of the law and didn’t realize they’d still find a way to punish him.

“Community service aside, I definitely didn’t think you’d be sent away. ”

He rolls his eyes. “Dad’s been trying to push me away for so long, this gave him reason to.”

Flashes of the year we spent living together under our parents’ roof run through my mind. The fights between him and his father. The times he’d slink off to his room with his cheek red, the emotional, physical, and mental abuse lingering for days, weeks, months afterwards.

The ones still lingering.

For whatever reason, Knox couldn’t do anything by Henry’s standards.

It’s the main reason why I accepted this house and took the City Hall job.

Why I attend endless suppers and brunches with my parents.

To keep Henry compliant and content with me, to not send me away like he did Knox.

To not want to kick me out of the family.

I’d already lost one dad in the past; I don’t want to lose another, even if Henry’s personality leaves something to be desired.

Knox shoves off the wall, glaring down with eyes the colour of a void. They make me want to escape, reminding me I don’t really know Knox anymore. So this anger…who knows what’s about to happen.

“That’s it? You told them I was the dealer because it was a game between us?”

When the police raided the party, a cop stopped the three of us before we could get away.

A quick check of pockets and Knox was forced to reveal the weed he had on him.

Julian immediately claimed Knox was trying to deal it to us.

Knox obviously countered that, reminding him who his father is and why arresting the mayor’s son wouldn’t be smart.

The cop asked me if Knox was indeed in possession of the drugs…

and I nodded because I was still so annoyed at him for a trick he played the day prior.

Figured he made my day hell, I should do the same to him and not get my boyfriend in trouble.

The moment Knox was cuffed and Julian stared on, smug, his arm around my waist, I knew I messed-up and should have used the situation to make Julian go away. Something already in the plans since dating him no longer held my interest.

Julian and I lasted about three days past that night.

If only he accepted the split. All this time later, and he’s still a thorn in my side.

Knox rubs a hand through his hair and curses before heading back down the hall. I follow.

“You got me the day before,” I implore, begging him to understand that my side was foolish but craving his forgiveness.

“Remember when you added oil to my shampoo? It took the whole day of constant scrubbing to get out. You had the drugs in hand, so I thought it’d be a funny way to pay you back…

but it wasn’t. As soon as you were loaded into the cruiser, I tried to stop them from taking you.

I told your dad what actually happened, but he didn’t care.

I tried messaging you, only to learn he took your phone. ”

“He didn’t want us talking.”

“Oh.”

Back in the living room, he scans the place.

The living room that’s connected to the kitchen by an arched opening, and the many Halloween decorations hanging.

Fake webs along the archway, signs on the walls, glittery pumpkins in small patches of three in the room’s corners.

Even my TV stand has a mixture of small decorative figurines.

Beneath the temporary holiday décor, it’s my home he’s studying. The furniture. The pictures of Mom and me on the side table. The movies and game console on the TV stand. The black area carpet bought only a few weeks ago.

The house that we should be roommates in.

Then there’s the more personal effects. The crossword puzzle book on the coffee table.

A sweater draped on the back of the couch, beside the blanket that’s messily balled up from where it was left two nights ago after the horror movie that ensured bedtime was filled with blood and gore. And— is that a bra?

“Nice place.” His tone is strange. Appreciative. Polite, even.

There’s been small moments between us where his black heart lightens into a shade of grey, and his tone always softens during those instances. While the intense version of him gets my heart racing, something about the gentler side makes me feel safe too.

“You mad?” I ask, returning to the previous topic.

“Not for the reasons you think. Your lie amuses me more than anything.”

His anger would be preferable because an angry Knox means he’ll get his revenge and move on. He’ll leave me alone. If he’s not mad, then he’s unpredictable.

“Okay, well…” Glancing into the kitchen, the time on the stove reminds me I’m about to be late for brunch with our parents if I don’t get going soon.

Should I invite him along? Does Henry even know his son is home?

“Well, if you’re not mad, it’s good to see you again, but I’m running late for something. ”

Instead of walking to the door, he falls back onto the couch, his legs spreading wide as he scans me up and down clinically. “You’re going out like that? You look exhausted. Play hooky with me.”

If looks could kill, he’d be ten feet beneath.

“That’ll be a fuck no . Please leave,” I plead, a bit desperate. “Go live your life.”

Never ever would I have imagined Knox’s response.