Page 77 of Walking in Darkness

“I can’t believe this.”

Wonder and confusion filled her spirit.

The things we’d been taught.

Commanded.

No doubt, it was hard for her to wrap her head around the changes. Unquestionably, it applied to all of us. The revealing of much that had been hidden. Truths that had been secreted and concealed.

But I also knew that meant there were complexities that only brought us more confusion from the lack of answers.

It was as if a crack had been made in the well that contained all that we knew. Uncertainties and doubts leaking out with the new freedoms we were discovering.

Freedoms we’d barely found.

Freedoms we had to stop from being stripped away.

The low hum of an engine echoed up the street, and everyone froze as we turned to watch a pickup truck pass.

A sharp edge cut into the mood, each of us wary of everything and everyone.

A collective sigh rippled out of us when it didn’t slow and drove by without incident.

“We should go inside,” Pax suggested.

“Oh my gosh, yes, come in.” Dani jumped into action, and she widened the door and gestured for us to enter. She shut it as soon as we passed, hurrying to engage three big locks and plugging a code into an alarm-system keypad on the wall.

I took in her space while she did.

The house was small and cute. Chaotic and cluttered.

Kind of like Dani.

The living room was crammed with an oversize, plush cream-colored couch that was pushed up against the left wall, decorated with a slew of throw pillows in every color. A black cat with a white spotbetween its eyes was curled up on the back cushion, and it only lifted its head to peek at us in annoyance before it went back to its nap.

There was a coffee table with a bunch of books scattered across the top, and white shelves boasting a gorgeous collection of hardbacks were situated on the wall opposite the couch. A flat-screen television was built into the middle of it, the glass surrounded by a white frame.

On the far side of the house was a round table that sat beneath the bright light that flooded in through the windows set into double French doors that overlooked the backyard.

It looked like the kitchen was to the left of it, and just before the wall that separated the kitchen was a hall to the left.

“Your phone not working?” Pax asked.

Dani huffed. “I’ve been so nervous that when my sweet girl Pixie”—she gestured to the cat snoozing on the back of the couch—“jumped up onto the counter behind me in the kitchen yesterday, I screamed and basically launched it into the air like I was about to be murdered, which apparently I was, since you two are standing here. It completely shattered the screen when it hit the floor. I emailed my mom and asked her to get me a new one because there was no chance I was going out there by myself.”

“That’s a good call,” Pax said.

“Apparently so.” She exhaled a heavy breath; then her eyes went wide again. “How about some tea?”

“Sure,” I said.

She moved through the living room and disappeared into the kitchen.

Cabinet doors started banging, and I could hear the clatter of dishes.

“You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t get a whole lot of company,” she called, almost sounding flustered. “Okay, let’s be real—I get none except for my parents.”

I glanced at Pax, who had set our bags by the door and now was peering back out at the front yard around the edge of the drape to make sure we were in the clear. Turning back around, I edged through the living area and followed Dani’s path to the kitchen.