In the Dark: A Thrilling Romantic Suspense Novel (The Dark Series Book 1)

by Danah Logan

  "Keep it together, babe. You’re drooling," Denielle hisses beside me.

  I force my gaze away from the gorgeous boy ahead of me and focus on my destination—the cafeteria. Instead, I find Katherine standing at the end of the hallway. Her emerald-green eyes are zeroed in on Rhys’s back, and my stomach turns into a tight knot. She’s been with him for years, and he broke up with her for me, not caring how it’d look to the rest of the world, also known as Westbridge High. As if she heard my thoughts, her gaze snaps to mine. Does she know I’m the reason? No, she can’t, I chastise myself. She’s always disliked me for one reason or another, but now she emanates outright hostility.

  We get within earshot of Rhys and Wes, and Denielle hollers, "Hey, Wes, how’s the snow today?"

  I’m so startled that I break out of my stare-down with Katherine. Den winks at me, and I understand. She intended exactly that. I love my best friend.

  Wes flips her off. "Fuck off, D."

  Both can barely contain a knowing grin, and even Rhys’s stony mask cracks a tiny bit as he gives my best friend a barely visible nod. She dips her head in acknowledgment, and a secret message passes between them. Despite my heart still racing in my chest from my standoff with Katherine, I feel pure joy. I have all my friends back in my life. No more secrets, no more hiding. The four of us can finally be us again.

  For the first time in—actually, for the first time ever, I’m skipping practice. I was in a fog of happiness and dread during the rest of my classes. The people that have meant the most to me in the past are all back in my life, but I can’t tell anyone. I have to pretend that I despise Rhys, that Wes and I don’t talk, and that Den is my only close friend. Sure, Sloane and Emma are my friends, but I wouldn’t confide in them. Maybe trivial things like a random boy crush, yes, but not with what’s really going on in my life. And then there is the matter of the text message. Every time my phone vibrates, I feel like I’m being choked, and I can’t breathe until I see it’s not him. So, instead of going to practice, I’m heading home to hide in my sanctuary. I need some time to collect myself and figure out how to play my part in all of this.

  I’m about to back out of my parking spot when I stop and send Rhys a quick text: Heading home.

  The three dots immediately start dancing on the display.

  Everything ok?

  Of course he’d be worried since I never skip practice.

  Yes, just need to be alone for a bit.

  K. Be careful.

  Before I can put my phone away, another message from Rhys comes in: PS: Netflix and chill tonight?

  I nearly drop the device, and my thumbs hover over the digital keyboard.

  Is he serious?

  I’m about to type a reply when another bubble pops up: Just kidding, babe. Can’t wait to be alone with u though.

  I grin at the screen like a loon, and the hornets in my stomach go haywire. This is unreal—all of it.

  My happiness fades as I back out of Rhys’s text, and the "UNKNOWN" sender jumps out at me.

  What do you want with me?

  When I get home, the house is eerily quiet. It has never struck me as weird being alone at home, but walking from the garage through the first floor, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I eye the windows.

  Are you out there right now?

  It’s almost four. Rhys is at practice, Heather is with Natty at ballet, and Tristen left for another two-week trip this morning.

  After a very long and scorching shower, I dress in my favorite gray cotton harem lounge pants, loose white shirt knotted in the front, and my go-to duster cardigan, completing the comfy look with some fuzzy socks. Settling at my desk, I pick up the picture of Rhys and me and hold it in both hands. What would have happened if I’d never been kidnapped? Would we still be in touch? Live close by? I would be with my birth parents and have a normal life. Would I be happy? I shake my head. No point in thinking about what-ifs—it happened.

  With a sigh, I pull up the file with my case research on my laptop and lay my phone with the text message next to it. I start a new page in the document, writing out everything I notice in the pictures. Date, time, place, who was with me, angle, and location from where they were taken. I’m not super familiar with photography, despite taking journalism. I have no clue how far away the photographer could have been in the outdoor shots. He must’ve been in the audience for the gymnastics one. I briefly wonder if anyone might have caught him on camera in their own pictures, but for that, I would have to start asking around, and that’s not an option.

  I obviously put him back on my trail when we went to California. But how? And then, another thought hits me: did he find me through my research? Anything is possible with today’s technology, right? I recall what Madeline said about the emails and the photos my birth parents received. She said they were from the hospital’s surveillance camera. A cold shiver runs down my spine. If that’s the case, who knows what this freak is capable of?

  I slowly close my laptop and take stock. I’m scared, yes, but shouldn’t I be freaking out? Like, losing-my-mind freaking out? Hiding in my closet panicking? Or at least wanting to tell Heather and Tristen? But I am not. I have the subliminal knowledge that he doesn’t want to harm me. But why? I have no clue how I know, but I do.

  Is this another half-erased memory?

  Why me? What makes me so special? Instead of finding the answers in California, I have more questions than ever. They seem to be piling up by the day.

  I don’t feel like reading, and I have no more homework left. I could study for the chemistry quiz on Friday, but instead, I wander down to the family room and turn the TV on. I have thirteen episodes of various shows to catch up on. I haven’t relaxed in front of the TV since this all started. Plopping down in the middle of the couch, I prop my feet on the round ottoman and grab the remote. A CW drama is exactly the distraction I need today.

  Around five-thirty, Heather and Natty walk in through the garage, and I hear Heather start prepping dinner shortly after.

  I’ve avoided spending long periods of time with either of my adopted parents since we got home. Sitting here now, listening to her opening and closing the fridge and cabinets, I wonder if either of them has noticed my absence. I have no idea how to act around them, and being constantly paranoid I’ll let something slip, I’ve stayed away. For the first time since it all started, I crave being near Heather, being with my mom. The need hits me like a punch in the gut. After weeks of being driven by rage and resentment, I’ve relented to no longer being mad at them. I am unable to forgive them, yet, but I also understand their motives better. They have kept me safe for ten years. I owe it to them and myself to try.

  I stand in the doorway to the kitchen and watch Heather buzz around. She is a born multi-tasker. I witness her manning the stove with three pots on it while reading a work document propped on the cookbook stand and helping Natty who is sitting at the island with her homework. The scene fills me with warmth. Heather has just started cutting an onion next to the stove, and she hasn’t seen me yet. I walk up from behind and wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face in her back.

  "Oh my gosh, sweetie!" She is startled by my unusual assault. "Is everything okay?"

  "Hmm-mmm. All good," I mumble into her back. Standing there, I realize that, besides the brief hugs from Denielle and the comfort Rhys has given me during the trip, this is the first physical contact I have initiated in weeks. It feels good.

  "Well, okay then." I hear her smile. "Want to help me prep dinner?"

  Do I want to? My heart rate picks up, and I experience a brief moment of panic. This means spending time with her. Am I ready to put myself in this situation? What if I slip up? Or what if she says something that ignites my anger again and then I slip up? I take a deep breath. I can do this. With all the new developments in the last two days, I want to be around my family. I want a little bit of normality, even if it technically is just a pretense.

  We chat about school and the invitat
ional last weekend. I conveniently neglect to mention that Rhys was there. I tell her about Denielle and Charlie and how they deal with their long-distance relationship. Heather loves both of them and always wants to know how they are.

  "Denielle might visit him during spring break. Since Charlie has come home twice, she wants to see his life there."

  Heather nods. "That’ll be fun."

  I’m stirring the tomato sauce when Rhys announces his entrance by dropping his gym bag in the middle of the kitchen with a loud thud. My back is toward the room, and my body goes on high alert, which almost makes me lose my grip on the spoon.

  "Honey! I didn’t expect you home this early. Why aren’t you at Wes’s? Or Katherine’s?" Heather’s tone is pure delight.

  I don’t turn, knowing my flushed skin will betray me. I need time to compose myself. As if my embarrassing behavior in school wasn’t enough today. God, I hope it’s not going to become a pattern whenever he’s around.

  "Wes is at home, and I broke up with Kat."

  Rhys’s reply is as casual as if he were talking about what he had for lunch.

  I’m so shocked by his response that I drop the whole oregano container into the sauce. "Shit!"

  "Everything okay, sweetie?"

  I still make no move to face the room, and I hear Rhys chuckle. That ass.

  "Um, yeah, it just slipped out of my hand."

  The next question is directed at Rhys again. "What happened?" Heather doesn’t sound upset or broken up about it. I know she never liked Kat very much.

  You and me both, Heather.

  I fish out the oregano, and I swivel on my heels, wanting to see Rhys’s face when he answers.

  He gives a one-sided shrug. "It just wasn’t right. Hasn’t been for a long time."

  And with that, the topic is closed. Heather nods in understanding and moves on. Did she know that his relationship was all for show? I guess a happy dance would be inappropriate, right? Even though I’m pretty sure all of us think about doing it for different reasons.

  "Are you eating with us?" The question slips out before I can stop myself.

  Three sets of eyes are trained on me, two in various expressions of surprise. Yes, I know I haven’t openly talked to Rhys in years, but come on. I try not to scowl at their looks and raise my eyebrows instead...waiting.

  "Umm...sure?"

  Ha! Rhys’s cheeks have turned bright pink, and I give him my biggest Cheshire grin once Heather’s back is to me.

  He shakes his head, smiling, and walks out of the room with his gym bag draped again over his shoulder. My phone vibrates in my sweater pocket, and after glancing at Heather, who is pulling plates out of the cabinet, I sneak a peek.

  Just wait until later. ;)

  And with that, I resemble a red traffic light again.

  Dinner is, thankfully, uneventful. Natty monopolizes the mealtime conversation with stories of her ballet lessons and what her teacher has planned for class next time. A few times, I chance a peek at Rhys, and every time, his eyes are focused on me. His eyes sparkle with the earlier threat, and heat ignites in places I’ve never experienced before. I press my lips together to prevent myself from grinning.

  I’m putting the dishes in the dishwasher when Rhys excuses himself upstairs, and Heather calls after him, "I’ll see you in the morning. I’m going to turn in early since I got up with Dad this morning."

  "‘Kay, night," he calls back and disappears.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I can’t get out of the kitchen fast enough. Whenever Mom is busy talking to Natty during dinner, I risk a glance at Lilly, and every single time, her hazel eyes immediately snap to mine. It’s like she senses my gaze. Add to that the unspoken emotions in her eyes—ones I never thought I’d see directed at me—and it takes every ounce of self-restraint to not claim her right there—on top of the kitchen table. I groan inwardly.

  Yeah, that would go over well.

  Natty would be scarred for life, and Mom probably would have a heart attack. No matter how hard I try, I can’t prevent the heat in my core from spreading further every time we lock eyes. By the end of the meal, my pants are so tight I’m sure I’ll have to do the penguin walk upstairs to not blow from the friction in my jeans. I need a cold shower—very cold.

  At one point, I’m so deep in my head, envisioning myself exploring Lilly’s graceful neck with my mouth down to her collarbone, that Lilly kicks me under the table.

  Yup, I’m fucked.

  I stay under the freezing spray until I’m shaking uncontrollably and the last bit of heat has left my body. Busying myself in my room, I put on sweats and a fresh t-shirt, pick up stuff here and there, and scroll through my social media. Eventually, I hear Natty’s door close followed by Mom’s footsteps upstairs. Lilly’s door is ajar with the light off, which means she’s downstairs. Alone. This time, the fire remains at bay. Instead, a knot forms in my stomach, and my hands start trembling. It’s like being fourteen again, playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with Mandy Chamberlain. I slump down onto the foot of my bed and put my head in my hands. Deep breaths. Logically, I know I’m being ridiculous. I’m far from being a virgin. If sex were an Olympic sport, I’d have earned the gold medal the first year Kat and I dated. But this is Lilly, and I have no clue how to act. We’re not just your average high school couple falling in love. There is a moving truck full of baggage attached to each of us.

  I round the corner to the family room and find Lilly covered under a throw blanket, watching one of her favorite shows. I stop at the sight. She hasn’t done that in forever, and it brings back a feeling of normality. She is cuddled up in the corner while I remain in the doorway, watching her.

  Without glancing away from the TV, she says, "You sitting down or what?"

  Busted.

  She’s smirking to herself as she speaks, and I huff out a laugh. I can always tell when Lilly is around, even if I haven’t seen her yet. It’s weird. It seems like she has developed the same skill, because I am sure I didn’t make a sound coming down.

  Since she is cuddled in the corner, I sit down in the middle of the couch. I don’t want to assume, but I don’t want to sit too far away from her in my usual spot at the other end either. Crossing my arms over my chest, I have no clue what else to do with them—the urge to pull her on top of me makes my fingers twitch. We watch in silence, and I peer over at her whenever I think she’s not looking. Her posture is stiff, and I’m convinced she is paying as much attention to what’s on the screen as I am.

  Lilly shifts, her feet touching my thigh through the blanket. It’s like I’ve touched a live wire, and I instinctively jerk my leg away. My heart starts racing, and I’m pretty much panting. Not to mention what’s going on in my sweats—again. I need to get out of here, or this time, I am going to jump her.

  I bolt from the couch, mumbling something along the lines of, "Be right back," and escape to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I let the escaping air cool my skin.

  That’s better.

  I stare inside the fridge for a good five minutes before I grab two water bottles and make my way back with the best intention of keeping it together.

  Handing one of the bottles to Lilly, our fingers brush when she takes it, and her eyes widen at the contact. She lets her fingers linger for longer than necessary before settling back onto the couch. Maybe I’m not the only one affected here? But despite her body language, her voice is calm, almost nonchalant, when she lifts the edge of the blanket. "Sitting down?"

  My eyes bounce between her face, her raised hand, and the spot on the couch a few times.

  "Rhys?" Her eyes twinkle with mischief.

  Uh, wha—? God, I need to get a grip. If someone looked up "horny as fuck" right now, I’m pretty sure my picture would be there.

  I settle down, and she drops the blanket over my lap. That’s when I notice—fuuuuuck. Instead of angling away from me with her feet on my side, her feet are now in the opposite direction, and she slowly starts leaning into me.
Here we go again: heartbeat from zero to one-eighty in 0.1 second. I shift to release some of the sudden constriction in my pants.

  I didn’t realize my sweats were this small.

  Long inhale, four, three, two, exhale. Nope, not working, still sporting a tent. I’m between sprinting back to the fridge and pressing her into the couch cushions. How am I supposed to be good with her this close?

  Ah, fuck it. What’s the worst that can happen? Besides her shooting me down and our life becoming more awkward than it already is? Yeah, no big deal. I slide my left hand toward her under the throw blanket until our pinkies touch, holding my breath. Without hesitation, she intertwines our fingers.

  Holy sh— With this one touch, all anxiety leaves my body, and I’m...home. The other part of my anatomy also calms, even though I would’ve expected the opposite, given the skin-to-skin contact. For the first time tonight, I’m able to relax and actually watch some of the show still playing on the screen.

  "Rhys?"

  "Hmmm?" I’m so freaking content with her hand in mine.

  When she doesn’t say anything else, I turn my head. "What is it, Cal?"

  Not looking at me, she takes a deep breath like she is deliberating. "What are we?"

  Huh? My eyebrows knit together while I attempt to decipher what she is asking.

  She squeezes my hand. "This. I mean..." She hesitates, pink staining her cheeks. "We can’t be together."

  What the hell is she talking about?