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Every Little Thing

Page 115

by A.M. Myers

No one has any clue who this guy is and he is one hundred steps ahead of us.

“Hey,” he whispers, smoothing his hand over my hair and pulling my gaze back to his. “One step at a time, okay? Let’s go pack.”

I nod and we turn to walk out into the dining room when a loud pop comes from outside followed by the sound of glass breaking. Wyatt’s wide gaze turns to me and as the second pop echoes through the neighborhood, he pulls me to the floor.

“Is someone shooting at us?” I hiss as we flatten our bodies against the dining room floor. Wyatt’s hard gaze flicks to me as he pulls his gun out of his holster.

“You stay here, okay?”

I shake my head, trying to grab for him as he starts crawling away from me but he breaks free of my hold. “Wyatt!”

He disappears behind the table and I gasp for air, my pulse spiking as he pulls the curtains back to peek outside. The window breaks, raining glass down on him and I clamp my hand over my mouth to hold back my scream as tears sting my eyes again and my heart thrashes in my ears. When he appears on the side of the table, crawling toward the front door, I’m able to breathe a little easier until he opens the front door.

“Wyatt!” I hiss but he ignores me as he stands on the side of the door and takes a deep breath before stepping outside. When I don’t hear another gunshot, my mind starts to run wild and I shake my head. “Fuck this.”

Crawling along the floor, I move to the table and grab my bag off of the top before digging my gun out with my gaze fixed on the front door. Just as I’m standing up to move toward it, another gunshot rings out from the backyard and I spin around. Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, I cross the kitchen and stop at the back door, pulling the curtains back to peek out of the little square window at the top of the door. Someone in a black hoodie has their back to me as they point a gun at Wyatt, who has his hands up. My gaze flicks to his gun on the ground and my stomach flips.

Oh, God, I’ve got to help him.

Moving slowly, I turn the door handle and gently pull the door open, careful not to make any noise and when I reach the spot where the door creaks, I hold my breath and lift it up as hard as I can, relief rushing through me when I get it open without a sound. The screen on the outside door is already open and I crouch down as Wyatt’s gaze flicks to me. His eyes tell me to run but there is no way in hell that is going to happen.

“Why did you have to go and ruin everything?” the person in the hoodie says and all my thoughts screech to a halt. Wait… I know that voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She was mine!” Lillian shrieks and I shake my head, trying to understand what is happening right now but no matter which way I look at it, it doesn’t make sense. Why the hell is one of my best friends holding my husband at gunpoint? Standing up, I tiptoe backward until I hit the dining room then I turn and run out of the front door before hooking around the house. Creeping along the side of the house, I hear more of her ranting at him and I breathe a sigh of relief.

As long as she’s ranting, she’s not shooting.

Rounding the back of the house, I raise the pistol in my hand, holding it just the way Wyatt showed me as I stop a few feet behind her. “What are you doing, Lil?”

“Piper,” she gasps, wheeling around as she lowers her gun but when she sees the gun in my hand, she lifts it again, pointing it at me.

“No! Point that back at me,” Wyatt urges her, pointing to himself and I narrow my eyes and shake my head as she glances between the two of us before backing up until we form a triangle in the yard. She trains her gun on Wyatt and my heart sinks.

No.

No.

No.

“Lillian, what are you doing?”

She shakes her head as her gaze turns to me but she still keeps the gun pointed at my husband. “I’m fixing this mess.”

“What mess is that?” I ask, eyeing her warily and waiting for her to make her move. Images from the night my parents died flick through my mind but instead of reducing me to a bubbling mess like they usually do, this time I use them to fuel me. As much as I don’t want to, I will protect my husband at all costs. She shakes her head again and when her eyes meet mine, they fill with tears.

“You’re not supposed to be with him.”

I scowl. “He’s my husband, Lil. Of course I’m supposed to be with him.”

“No!” she screams, shaking her head again. The blank look in her eyes scares me and the tired look on her face tells me just how close she is to snapping and I know from all my time with Dr. Brewer and in the group that I have to be careful. “Stop saying that. Don’t you see, Pippy? I love you…”

“I do see that,” I answer, remembering what Dr. Brewer said about people lost in a delusion before I remember Wyatt admitting to me in the kitchen that he was tracking me to make sure I didn’t cheat on him. Where did he put it? In my car? My phone? Sucking in a breath, I meet his eyes and hope that he will understand my plan. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, Lil. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and I shake my head.

“No, it’s not. You’ve always been there for me. Do you want to get out of here? Just you and me?”