thirty

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A soft smile, a lingering touch, and a snuggle deeper into the covers wove together into the best morning Dray had had in a while—at least until she remembered why.

She yawned and rolled over onto her stomach, shoving her face into the pillow. She blindly reached for her phone on the night stand, barely turned her head, and held the phone just an inch from her nose.

A surprise text snapped her from the sleepy fog. She pressed to her forearms. A message from Mikki about Porter filled the screen. Dray's confusion about that relationship drifted at the worried words of the redhead. Even the suspicion of how she got her number faded.

She gulped at the truth about Porter. Dray's lack of trust plummeted each time she interacted with Mikki, but she felt inclined to tell her something.

Without revealing details, she settled on a simple message that Porter got involved in a bad, dangerous situation. She stared at her screen after pushing send until it went black and then a few minutes later. No response.

Pots and pans clanged out her room, drawing Dray's attention from the phone laying in a swirl of sheets. She quietly got out of bed and changed into a fresh set of clothes. She slipped the phone into her pocket on the way out.

Lucy clanked some more dishes together while making breakfast.

"Need some help?" Dray smiled.

She turned and revealed a hefty pan of scrambled eggs on the stove. "Sure do!" She pointed to a bowl of fruit on the island. "You can cut that up. It's all rinsed."

"Aye, aye," Dray said and washed her hands. She grabbed a small knife from a drawer in the island and got to work.

As soon as Dray cut the first strawberry, it was as if the sisters transported back in time to when they were young, to the Sundays they spent in the kitchen while their parents watched football. Little prods and pokes accompanied teasing jokes between their hands prepping food.

Before they knew it, the men stumbled in. Sleepy eyes, messy clothes, and knotted hair lined the opposite side of the kitchen.

"Aren't you guys a sight for sore eyes," Lucy tilted her head, "sort of."

An unattractive snort and probably a little spit tumbled out of Dray. She covered her mouth waiting for reactions that never came.

The women shared a casual shrug and started putting full plates of food on the counter. The guys dug in and Lucy hopped up to sit on the counter with her own breakfast, leaving Dray to eat standing.

After the silence of everyone stuffing their faces, Nash wiped his mouth with a napkin and crushed it in his fist. "We should figure stuff out." He met everyone's eyes. "Cliff contacted Sheriff Heron. He's open to our idea, saying he needed to protect his family." He looked pointedly at the youngest Dinley.

Dray slowly chewed on the fruit in her mouth and nodded. She questioned the motives of the sheriff with every encounter and now, a tug in her gut led her to agreeing with her sister on the matter.

"Porter on the other hand," Cliff said, rolling his eyes. He took a bite of his eggs and shook his head.

A ding from Dray's phone halted the conversation. It lit up with another text from Mikki. "That may be getting taken care off." She set her plate on the counter. "Mikki, a woman from town that, for some reason, really cares for him. She says she's going to try and keep him occupied."

"She knows?" Wells' first words of the morning came out hoarse.

Dray glanced at him. "No, but she knew something was up. I told her he's in trouble." She avoided his gaze that filled with doubt.

"We'll take it." Nash stood and took his dishes to the sink. "Hopefully she's got some pull over him."

She nodded and picked apart the leftover eggs on her plate.

"Sheriff said he got a text from the leader, Parson," Cliff waited for a moment, testing the name, and then continued. "It basically said to sit tight and another meeting will be set up soon."

The sharp scrap of a stool snapped their heads to the far side of the kitchen where Wells now paced. "So, we wait, again for him to just come after us." Frustration gushed from his words and movements.

Lucy sighed and dangled her legs off the counter. "We have no way of contacting him, Wells. If we did, we'd do something."

He rubbed his face and stilled. "I know. I'm sorry."

Nash turned to the group, drying his hands and tossing the towel aside. "We'll go at it the same way, though," he crossed his arms over his chest, "this time Wells needs to be there."

"What! Why?" Dray snapped her head to him.

Wells stopped pacing. "I don't even want to look at him, let alone go have a chat."

The tension in the room tightened and the two men closed some distance between them.

"He will be prepared, expecting something to happen, expecting us to shoot at him again. Wells, if you come with, it'll catch him off guard." Nash gripped Wells' shoulder.

Wells shook his head and knocked his hand off. "Right, because he's cared so much for me during my life. Why would he care now?"

His sarcastic anger threw Dray for a loop, being a characteristic she had yet to see from him. She pushed to break up the power struggle before it got worse.

"How do we even know it wouldn't be a trap for us? You guys say Parson already thinks we all did it. Why would he want to talk with you for any other reason?" She placed her hand on Wells' arm with the intention of drawing him back a few steps from Nash.

It failed and Lucy grabbed her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "He keeps every option open. Even if his suspicion is on us, he will move slow, delaying action to figure out things for sure. That's what he's always told us."

"What a guy," Wells muttered.

Dray sighed and her posture drooped. She looked at Nash. "How long until the meeting do you think?"

"Not long." He relaxed back onto the counter. "He wants to see Wells."

"He told you this?" Wells stepped towards him again. His jaw tensed and his fists clenched.

Cliff moved forward. "Not quite," he patted Wells on the back, "but it's obvious." He strolled through the men and pushed them apart.

Wells glared and opened his mouth to retort, but Nash diverted the subject.

"Cliff, Lucy and I have to go into Lockton. We need to keep up the charade." He walked over to the front door and grabbed his keys and jacket. "You two need to stay here, okay? It's safer."

"That's what you said last time," Wells said as he left the room.

Dray dropped her head back to gaze at the ceiling and then met Nash's eyes. "Sounds good, Nash," she said.

Lucy hugged her. "He'll be okay. He has you."

Her arms wrapped loosely around her sister. Dray nodded despite the uncertainty that swarmed in her mind over the words.

"Stay safe," Lucy said and pulled back, leaving her hands on Dray's shoulders. "We'll be back soon."

Dray smiled as they left, her eyes wandering the room. Cliff passed and squeezed her shoulder. Once the door shut and the locked clunked into place, her eyelids fluttered close. The air flew out of her body and she nearly collapsed.

But then, her heart sped up in her chest, constricting like she had heartburn. She leaned over the counter, dropping her forehead to the cold surface. Repeatedly counting to three for each breath, she forced her body to calm down—through her nose, out her mouth, through her nose, out her mouth.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and massaged her temples. She swayed her hips gently as the pounding of her heart slowed. With one last deep breath, she pushed up and opened her eyes.

Sometimes, the stress moved from her mind to her body and left her in total exhaustion.

Dray left the kitchen. Her fingers brushed against the bumpy texture of the hallway walls. She found Wells in their bedroom on his back with his head on a pillow. His forearms covered his eyes.

She coughed to clear her throat. "I think that we should talk about it now." She flopped on the bed stomach first and rested her chin on her tightly clasped hands. A subtle shake lingered through her fingertips that she couldn't shake.

Wells didn't move, but after a moment let the arm closest to her fall to the bed. He tilted his head to look at her. "Parson was my dad and then he died. Now he's alive. All done."

A bout of anger-laced annoyance flooded Dray's gut. "Wells, this is serious." She raised her voice. "All of this—this is crazy! Your dad, the murders, conspiracies? How are you brushing it off?"

He pushed up to lean on his forearm, surprised.

"You can't just," she dropped her head, "act like this is just another day at the office. This isn't normal. Nothing about this is even remotely normal." She continued mumbling to herself until Wells placed a hand on her back. She didn't look at him.

"You've been holding this in."

She glared at him.

"I expected more of this earlier on, but you do like to ignore things." He pulled her into a hug. "You don't have to keep acting like this is normal. We all know it isn't. We've just been in it longer."

Dray inhaled the woodsy scent of his sweatshirt. "Honestly, I don't think I would have lasted this long if I didn't pretend."

"When I first met you, I had a feeling. I knew I had to make you believe me before you fell into the stories of the town." His thumb grazed above her elbow.

"So you followed me like a creep?"

He scoffed. "I followed you to help. You already saw a dead body I didn't think I needed to be subtle."

Her lips curled up. "Well, just so you're aware, it was still very creepy."

He waved his hand. "Anyway, after we talked and started working together, I knew this was it. We were going to figure it out. You're curious, strong. You're special, Dray. Don't sell yourself short." He rubbed her back. "Just know you can always talk to me. I'll always remind you."

She squeezed him tight and pulled back to kiss him lightly on the lips. A little bit of relief swam through her, but she was eager to move on from her own feelings. "And you can tell me how you feel."

His eyebrows lifted. "We are masters of deflection," he chuckled, "but I'm not even sure how to feel."

"Just start talking." She picked at loose threads of the quilt and threw him a soft smile. "It'll get you somewhere."

His gaze lingered on her before he took a deep breath. "I'm upset." He shrugged. "I'm upset that he is here. I guess I'm upset that he has been here my entire life and didn't come back."

His hand flopped to the bed and Dray grabbed it.

"People die and life goes on. My parents died and my life went on. I may have never accepted how, but I accepted that they were gone and they weren't coming back."

Her hand tighten over his. "But your dad isn't."

"No." He burrowed his eyebrows. "He isn't" He paused for a second, losing his gaze just over Dray. "I don't think I see him as my father. I don't look at him and feel what I used to feel."

His expression fell and he met her eyes. "He's not my father, Dray. He's not my dad anymore."

Dray clenched her jaw in a feeble attempt to hold back tears. The difference between her loving father and his made it impossible for her to fully understand what he felt. All she knew was he had never looked so broken.

She shuffled closer and put her arms around his neck. "Family is more than blood, Wells," she whispered. "You get to choose what your relationship—or lack there of—is with him."

They hugged for a long time. The comfort kept Dray still. She hid her face and continued to fight the waterworks. Wells held on to her waist. He did not win the fight.

The minutes stretched out longer and longer until a tingly numbing spread through Dray's limbs and yet, they stayed.

When Dray finally forced her heavy eyelids shut, she heard the front door. Her fingertips grazed Wells' cheek. "You good?" She ran her thumb back and forth.

Wells opened one eye and his lips pulled up on the same side. "In front of the others, yes. In front of you, no." His joke landed in a sad smile.

Dray returned it and put on a brave face. "It sounds like they're back." She pushed up from the bed and pulled him with. "Let's go see what's up."

He tucked her under his arm and she wrapped hers around his waist. The pair wandered out to the living area, but came upon no one. The bedroom doors hung open across the way and revealed more empty rooms.

"Well, that's weird. I could have sworn..." Dray trialled off and met Wells' equally confused expression.

"Actually," a voice spoke behind them, "it isn't too weird."

They shifted around, still in each other's grasp, and came face to face with the barrel of a gun. One for each of them.

Two clicks scratched at their ears. The sun set and casted dark shadows across their faces—one young, one old.

"I think we got them, Parson."

"That we did, Porter."

..

[EDITED OCTOBER 9, 2021]




Only two more chapters! 

Should be out soon-- earliest would be this weekend! Whoop!

Thank you for reading. 

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