My eyebrows draw up as I clasp the object, pulling it out of the bush, and that’s when my heart drops. The lights barely give me any light where I am, but just enough to make out what is in my hand. I immediately drop it to the ground, confused, I want to call for Luca, but close my mouth as I lift the black leather glove, looking it over. It’s covered in dirt.
“What the fuck?” I whisper to Roxy.
They’re back. But who? They're gone. Dead and burned.
Images of that night play like a movie… A horror movie in my mind.
Stop it, I reprimand myself.It could have been something Roxy found and brought back here. Not everything points back to them. Not everything revolves around them, Rowan.It’s just a glove.
“Rowan?” Luca calls from the back porch.
Hurriedly, I push the glove back into the bush, forcing myself to stand and rearranging my face. This is the last thing Luca needs to worry about. And what the fuck is worrying going to do? And worry about what? A random glove.
Roxy still stands by the bush. “Come on.” I slap my thigh, trying to get her attention, but her attention doesn’t leave the bush. “Roxy, now.” I make my voice more authoritative, and she slowly turns from the bush, but I can see she doesn’t want to. Finally, following me to the back porch.
Luca stands under the hanging lights. “Are you good?” he asks once I’m in full view of him.
“I’m fine.”
He pulls me to him, kissing the top of my head. “We’ll sort this out.” He points to the firepit.
Now I’m not sure if the firepit was an accident or if someone fucked with it. But now knowing he saw someone, the question stands: is someone out here with us?
I tossed and turned all night, not getting over two hours of sleep. Once the sun rises, I do the same. Forcing myself out of bed, tiptoeing out of the room, to not disturb Luca.
It’s barely five forty-five in the morning when I brew my coffee.
My eyes burn, but I ignore them as I fill Roxy’s bowl with food. She hears the ping of the dog food and comes running. Her nails tap the entire way to the kitchen.
Armed with my fresh cup of coffee, I undo the alarm, stepping onto the back porch, sitting at the seat I occupied last night, while slowly sipping my coffee, all the while my mind screams to look in the bush…but I don’t.
I watch Roxy run around the yard; all the while, she keeps disappearing out of view.
Filling my mouth with the brown goodness, the porcelain cup to my lips, I watch as Roxy comes around the corner, the leather glove in her mouth. Jerking the cup away, the hot liquid sloshes over the rim and onto my chin. “Fuck.” I stand up, hurriedly setting the cup down. “Drop it, Rox.” I quietly scream at her. She doesn’t. Walking toward her, she runs from me, the glove flapping from her mouth.
Gritting out, “Motherfucker.” I ease toward her, hoping she won’t run again. “Ahh, baby, what have you got there?” I sweet-talk her, getting on my knees on the grass, hoping she’ll come closer to me. It’s too damn early for this. “That’s a good girl.” I coo at her as she steps closer. Once she’s within arm's reach, I reach out and yank the glove from her mouth. She jumps back and then forward, thinking we're playing. “Not now, baby.” I pat her head before standing up.
The morning sun glints off the black leather. Turning it over, the palm bears script. Dusting the dirt from it, I can make out the letters SLS. My eyebrows raise in confusion, trying to decipher the letters, but it makes little sense to me. I want to run in, wake Luca up, and let him figure it out, but I can’t. I don’t even know what I’d be asking him to make better. Anyone could have left this, or Roxy could have brought it here.Stop being stupid, Rowan.I reprimand myself.
I rub the leather fingertip, contemplating what to do with it. I can’t put it back in the bush; Roxy will get it again. I pan the grounds, but there is nowhere it would be safe out here.
Hurriedly, I turn around. The morning dew on the grass has my feet wet as I enter the house. Running to the extra guest room, I lift the bed and throw the glove on top of the box spring before letting the mattress fall back down, covering it up. Hiding it from sight. I need time, but I want to search for those letters.
I stand there in the morning-lit room, mind racing about what I need to do to find out where it came from. Turning around, Weeks stands in the doorway, the light casting his shadow on the floor, looking like a tall monster entering the room.
“Holy shit!” I scream out, grabbing my chest.
“Everything okay?” His sleepy voice reaches my ears.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say as I walk toward him. Stepping closer, I can finally see his eyes, and they’re not looking at me; they’re looking at the bed.
“I was going to sleep in here, but realized I left my phone outside,” I make up on a whim.
I step into his eyesight. “What time should we take off?”
Weeks looks at me as he raises his coffee cup to his lips, his eyes full of sleep. Bringing the cup down, he laughs, but it’s not full of realness. “Dude, the sun barely came up.” He backs away from the door, giving me room to exit.
We both go our separate ways; he goes back to his room upstairs, as I stand in the kitchen. I don’t go back outside; instead, I leave my coffee out there, locking the door before going to the sofa.
