I said nothing as my brother walked out of the kitchen, muttering mainly to himself, leaving me alone with his wife. I liked Daphne. She was a sweet woman. Shy too, and I knew she only meant well. She welcomed me into her home, no questions asked. Even when the paternity results came back regarding her daughter, she still wanted me to stay with her. I didn’t know why, but with no place else left to go, I didn’t tell her no. The only person who kept me here was Jackson, and much to my brother’s annoyance, he moved in as well.
I missed him.
I could think clearly when he was around. I missed our talks, our long walks, and the comfortable silence that tethered us together.
Sometimes at night, lying awake in my room, I would listen for footsteps on the porch or the low rumble of Jackson’s laughter from down the hall. The silence pressed in, thick and uneasy, reminding me of all the things I couldn’t say to anyone here. I wondered if things would ever feel normal again, or if I was destined to always feel like a stranger in my own life.
“I thought if you were feeling up to it, that maybe we could venture over to the clubhouse. There is a cookout tomorrow, and all the girls are getting together to cook and prepare everything. It’s the first cookout of the summer, and from what the others tell me, it’s kind of special. The Tennessee Chapter will be arriving shortly, so there will be plenty of mouths to feed.”
“I don’t know.” I leaned back against the kitchen sink.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to go, Karlyn,” Daphne said softly, sensing my hesitation. She moved closer, her hands finding mine on the cool porcelain of the sink. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just thought... maybe it would be good for you to get out of the house for a bit.”
“I... I don’t know, Daphne,” I murmured, pulling my hands away and turning back to the window, my gaze fixed on the dark line of trees. The forest seemed to hold its breath, a silent sentinel watching my every move. The unsettling feeling from the night before hadn’t entirely faded. It was a low hum beneath the surface of my consciousness, a persistent whisper that something was still out there, waiting. “It’s just... I’ve been feeling a bit off lately. And the thought of all those people...” I trailed off, unable to articulate the overwhelming anxiety that threatened to suffocate me.
Daphne’s voice was a gentle balm. “We can just go for a little while. And if you want to leave, we’ll leave. No questions asked. Ink will be there, and so will I. You won’t be alone.” She squeezed my shoulder, her touch a comforting weight. The idea of being around Ink, my brother, was reassuring, but the memory of his disbelief when I’d spoken of the presence in the woods still stung.
Still, the promise of Daphne’s unwavering support was a lifeline, and the lure of distraction, of a brief escape from the suffocating memories, was strong. Maybe a cookout, with its noise and its crowds, was exactly what I needed to push the shadows back, even if only for an evening.
The air thrummed with boisterous energy, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of my room. Laughter and the sizzle of meat on the grill created a cacophony that, surprisingly, didn’t feel entirely unwelcome. I found myself drawn to the periphery, a silent observer amidst the revelry. Daphne, ever perceptive, found me leaning against a rough-hewn picnic table, a half-empty plate beside me. She offered a gentle smile, her presence a quiet anchor in the swirling chaos of familiar faces.
“It’s a good turnout,” Reaper, the president of the Golden Skulls, said as he walked toward me, his gaze sweeping over the mingling crowd. “The Tennessee Chapter always brings a lively bunch.”
I nodded, my eyes drifting back toward the dark, looming tree line that bordered the clearing. The memory of the night before, of the unseen presence I’d felt, still clung to me like a damp shroud, a persistent whisper beneath the festive din. Even here, surrounded by people I knew, I felt a prickle of unease, a sense of being watched.
“Ink told me what happened. You okay?” His voice, soft and concerned, cut through my thoughts.
I forced a smile, trying to push the lingering fear into the shadowed corners of my mind. “Yeah,” I lied, my voice thinner than I intended. “It was probably just my imagination.”
I knew he didn’t fully believe me, but he didn’t press.
Instead, he sighed, taking a seat next to me. “Don’t do that to yourself. If you thought you heard something, then you heard it.”
“My brother doesn’t believe me.”
“Your brother thinks a children’s cartoon is the greatest movie ever made.”
“Toy Story.” I nodded in agreement, then asked, “How many times has he made you watch it?”
“Enough to blast his ass into infinity and beyond if I ever watch it again.”
At that, I laughed. Like, really laughed.
Reaper let out a low chuckle, the kind that rumbled from deep in his chest. For a moment, the tension eased. The laughter of the crowd grew louder, music from a battered speaker drifting through the evening air. I tried to focus on the warmth of the gathering, the familiar faces and steady hum of conversation,but every now and then my gaze flicked back to the forest, searching for movement that might prove my fears right.
“Reaper, can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“Where is Jackson?”
Sighing, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “He’s hunting.”
“What does that mean?”
Turning to look at me, he asked, “You know Massacre got hurt in Nebraska, right?”
I nodded.
