twenty six

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Clinks from another room floated to Dray's ears. She rolled over a few times under the warm covers. An early morning on the horizon greeted the two blondes in the house.

Lucy wore quite possibly the fuzziest slippers Dray had ever seen. She made tea and filled two mugs with the steaming liquid. "Great timing," she said and held up a mug, walking out to the porch.

Dray attempted to rub the sleep from her eyes and blindly grasped onto the second mug. Its warmth spread over her hand, so she brought her other one up to meet it. The morning air chilled her skin and she didn't have fancy slippers to keep warm.

Outside, her sister nestled into a wicker chair. Dray missed that last night. She scanned the backyard. It matched the designer feel of indoors.

She took a seat beside her, holding the tea close to her face. The steam warmed her cheeks.

"So," Lucy took a sip of her drink, her eyes dancing back and forth between her cup and sister, "did you two have a good time last night, you know, in bed?"

Dray's face warmed too much. Her eyes bugged and her own sip of tea turned into a coughing fit. She held her mug at arms length, so she didn't spill. "No, Lucy," she said after a deep breath.

Lucy giggled and leaned back, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I mean, if it's because we are in the house, the walls are decently soundproofed. We've never had a problem before."

"This is weird." Dray let her head fall back.

"I'm just saying, this is now a home for you, too. Relax as much as you can. Lord knows we all need it."

Dray peeked at Lucy. The two grinned and soft laughter filled the porch.

"So, what is going on with you two?" Lucy held her mug close to her chest and locked eyes with her little sister.

"We haven't really talked about it, I guess." Dray dropped her gaze. "There's been no official moment or anything."

Lucy's smile stayed, but her eyes narrowed. She ran her finger along the top of her cup.

"It's hard to even think about." Dray's eyes darted everywhere, but never focused anywhere. "With what's going on, anyway," she added with a flick of her hand.

A few moments filled with chirping birds before Lucy straightened in her seat and angled her body towards Dray.

"Chester Farm." She waited until Dray's eyes met hers. "We sent you there."

Dray's brow furrowed. "You wrote the letter? There was nothing there."

"We needed you out of the house." She placed her hand on Dray's arm. "That's when things started to get tense. Nothing ended up happening until later, obviously. We missed the mark on that one," she rubbed her sister's arm and relaxed back into her spot, "but it made me feel better at the time. Oh, and we also let Cliff talk to you, drop some hints."

Dray snapped her fingers and pointed towards her. "I knew it," she grinned, "something felt different after we talked to him, but good different."

Lucy laughed. "I was hoping so. I wanted to tell you sooner, but it just wasn't safe."

The two looked down and fidgeted with their drinks. The air thickened.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked.

Dray rolled her eyes. "I'm fine." She smiled. "You know me, sis. I just roll with the punches."

"And pretend things aren't that bad."

She took another sip. "Maybe."

Lucy's expression drooped. "That's what I'm worried about." She opened her mouth to say more, but her oaf of a boyfriend practically knocked the porch door off its hinges.

"We've go to go." Nash stepped one foot outside and looked over to Dray. "You and Wells need to stay here, out of sight." He opened the door wider and went back inside.

The sisters shared a look and rushed inside.

"What's going on?" Dray saw Wells leaning against the counter and walked over to him. The past few days, she began to accept just being near him made her feel better.

Nash threw on his jacket. "I got called in. The sheriff said it was urgent. He hasn't done this since," he paused, "since his brother." He nodded to Lucy and went out the front door.

Lucy walked over to Dray and took her hands. "We'll be back soon." After a reassuring squeeze, she followed Nash, grabbing her jacket as she left.

A sharp click resounded through the quiet home and Dray allowed herself to think a measly lock would not protect them if someone were to come.

"Come on," she said before dwelling on the thought, "let's put on another movie."

Wells put an arm around her shoulder and shuffled to the living area. He plopped like a dead weight into the couch and his arm bounced behind Dray as she fell in next to him.

She grabbed his hand over her shoulder, pulling it closer, and clicked on the first movie she recongnized on Netflix. A romantic comedy filled the screen—a far cry from their usual taste—but neither objected.

It took a minute, but Dray finally relaxed into Wells, feeling his own body lose the tension from earlier.

About halfway through the movie, a rumble outside sent Wells stiff as a board, drawing Dray's heavy eyelids away from the screen. He shifted to stand.

"Just sit back down." She tugged his shirt. "It's just the wind, probably."

He listened, but his movements dripped in hesitation and a few minutes later when the main characters finally got the guts to kiss in a lovestruck, honeymoon way, a noise erupted behind them.

Wells shot up.

Dray, pale-faced and frozen, stared at him.

"Get up, get up," he said, bouncing on his heels and waving his hands.

She felt an overwhelming need to cry, but stood.

Before they could even think about moving from their wide open spot, the front door bashed in. The crack of wood snapped Wells into fight mode. He pulled them both into the kitchen towards the porch.

A firing gun tore through the room and the glass door shattered, landing inches from their feet.

"You aren't leaving."

The tall figure of Sheriff Heron stood in the entrance of the kitchen. His gun hung loose in his hand.

Wells stepped in front of Dray as soon as he spoke, but she peered around his arm to see another man walk up. "Porter."

The young man smiled at her, his teeth the brightest thing in the room. "Hey, Dray."

"What is this?" Wells spoke loud and sharp.

Sheriff Heron smiled. "Weldon Walden." He dropped his head with a chuckle and looked up through his lashes. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"Excuse me," Dray snaked her arm with Wells' and stood beside him, "why are you here? And why did you fire a gun!"

Sheriff's smile faltered when his gaze landed on Dray. "Porter is a little jumpy, still in training, but he claims that you and your new boyfriend are meddling in something you do not understand."

"I'm sorry," Wells said with calm, monotonous words, "we don't know what you are talking about."

An obnoxious snort spit from Porter that he abruptly cut off with a choppy cough when Sheriff held up a hand.

"Shall we start with the fact you're in Nash Yate's home?" He lowered his hand and gestured to the room.

Dray narrowed her eyes. "Nash and Lucy's home, as in my older sister. We're visiting for a few days."

The sheriff dropped his act. "I suppose you do look alike." He shifted in his spot.

Porter exhaled and held up his gun. "Tell us what you know."

"We don't know what you're talking about." Wells repeated louder.

"Bullshit!"

Sheriff Heron slapped Porter's arm down. He pointed in his face. "If you want to be involved, you need to learn to keep your mouth shut."

Porter faltered and step backed, but muttered, "No one else has a problem with me." He glared at the older man.

Dray felt her stomach flip at their interaction and suddenly, had an idea. "Sheriff, are you only here because of what Porter said?" Her politeness switched on like a light. "Because if it is, we are sorry. I suppose I did choose Wells over him and rejection always hurts."

An arm wrapped around her waist.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff, that you drove all the way out here on Porter's suspicion. He's never liked me." Wells stared directly into Porter's bulging eyes. "It's been quite a pastime of his—making up stories about me."

Porter jerked forward, but nearly clotheslined himself from the sheriff's outstretched arm.

"One more chance, Porter," he said, no longer paying attention to the couple on the other side of the room. "You will start by paying for the damage that you caused here." He slid his firearm back in its holster and gave Wells a nod before leaving the house.

A thought of angry cartoons with steam shooting from their ears popped into Dray's mind and she grinned at Porter.

He walked closer to them and jabbed a finger in their faces. "I'd watch out if I were you." His voice cracked between the words. "I don't know why he's so lenient, but there are others. You'll be dead soon enough." He whipped around, his sneakers squeaking on the wood floor and followed the sheriff.

Dray's smile wilted and the bit of relief she had washed away. "That was much too easy."

Wells pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. "And it's definitely not good."

She nodded into his chest. "It never is."

..

[EDITED OCTOBER 9, 2021]



I usually have at least one chapter prewritten, but I can't hold back with this story! I've got to post!

That being said, this is not edited. :)

Let me know what you think and THANK YOU!


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