Ushering me out of the door, Crane gets to work with the flour; tipping it over the floor lightly before leading it to the kitchen counter where he leaves it hanging over the side.
It looks like I’ve spilled the flour and left, which is an amusing thought.
“Come on then.” Crane steps over the flour, closing the door softly.
“Why have you put the key back?” I ask him as he kisses me.
“Becausesomeoneknows it’s there.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
CRANE
Ifanyonegoes into Sierra’s home while we’re gone, I’m going to hunt them down and kill them.
The thought of Sierra being alone while someone uses her spare key makes me feel sick with rage.
Ithasto be Declan because he’s a spiteful prick with an obsession withmygirl.
Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, I move my other to Sierra’s, focusing on the road ahead.
We’ve been driving for a few hours now, and Sierra’s anxiety is radiating off of her.
"Are you okay?" I ask, lifting her hand to my lips.
"Yeah, a little nervous, but I'm good," Sierra replies, staring out of the window.
The flour footprints we'd found at her house before leaving still burn in my mind. Size eleven boots, expensive hiking boot tread—exactly what Declan wears. The white powder had been scattered where I'd left the bag hanging, like someone had grabbed it hastily and knocked it to the floor.
"He really did it," Sierra had whispered when we saw the evidence. "He came into my house and took them."
I'm still raging about Declan when I pull up to my mom's.
It’s more important that I focus on Sierra, but I’ve got a sickening feeling that I’m right about Declan.
I don’t trust him at all; never have.
“Firstly, you look stunning,” I tell Sierra as I cut the engine. “Secondly, I love you, and thirdly, I promise you my mom already thinks the world of you.”
Sierra flushes and nods, and our lips meet again. This time it gets a little heated, and I consider driving somewhere a little quieter until Sierra breaks it off.
“I think your mom is at the door.” Sierra nods over my shoulder with a giggle, and I groan, knowing I’ve been busted making out with my girl by my mom.
I turn to see Mom beaming at us from the doorway, her cheeks flushing with excitement.
Her hair is long and lustrous, and she doesn’t look a day over thirty.
I hope I’ve got her genes.
The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
“She’s so pretty!” Sierra gasps from beside me as we stroll up the path.
I nod in agreement as I hold our entwined hands up to my mom.
“Got her, Mom.”
Sierra laughs, her eyes twinkling as Mom strides toward her, pulling her into a bear hug.
