CHAPTER EIGHT

The last rays of sunlight were bleeding into twilight. Music played softly from the living room television, mingling with the sounds of cooking, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses. The aroma of Naija’s infamous mac and cheese drifted through the air as it bubbled in the oven.

I was on salad duty, diligently slicing cucumbers, and cherry tomatoes into a bowl. My fleece hoodie had long been abandoned, leaving me in an oversized sweater and leggings, my sleeves pushed up to my elbows as I worked.

“Don’t forget the dressing,” Daniella teased as she walked by, snagging a cucumber slice from the cutting board. “And no cheap bottled crap. We have options.”

“Do I look like the type to cut corners?” I shot back with mock offense, tossing the sliced vegetables into the bowl.

I finished tossing the greens and moved to the bread. Daniella handed me a baguette and some garlic butter with a flourish.

“Don’t burn it.”

I gave her an exasperated look, slicing the bread carefully. “I won’t burn it, but if you don’t stop acting like I can’t outcook you in my sleep, I may burn you.”

Her jaw dropped. “Rude.”

“She does have a point,” Naija cut in. “You burn pop tarts.”

“That was one time!”

I waved her off and refocused. As I worked, the familiar rhythm of being in the kitchen with my friends felt comforting. Cherish wandered in from the living room, her eyes lighting up as she surveyed the scene.

“Looks like things are under control here.”

“For now,” Naija replied, stirring a pot of gravy with a wooden spoon. Her long locs were pulled into a loose bun, and she’d dressed up for this as if it were a formal dinner.

She looked every bit the queen she always carried herself as. “Okay, before I get too sidetracked, I’m about to lay down some rules.”

Cherish laughed. “Oh, this should be good.”

Naija set the spoon down with an exaggerated flourish, turning to face all of us. “Listen up, ladies—and gentlemen,” she added, casting a pointed glance toward the living room where Jason, Ryan, and Gabe were lounging. “Rules for the weekend: One, no talk of exes.”

She didn’t look at me as she said it, but I felt the weight of her words anyway. From the way she yelled loud enough for everyone to hear, I gathered I wasn’t the only one in the crosshairs. “Two, no phones at the dinner table. This weekend is about togetherness. I don’t wanna see anyone with their face in a screen. They’ll go in the box.”

“What box?” Gabe asked from the living room.

“The one I’ll be putting them in, smartass.”

Jason appeared in the kitchen doorway, twisted tea in hand. “And what happens if we break the rules?”

“Try me and you’ll find out,” she replied sweetly, flashing him a smile. “And three, absolutely, positively, everyone must have a good time. No exceptions. We’re here to relax and make memories, not mope around.”

Daniella slipped through the throng of bodies around the island and raised her glass in a mock toast. “Amen to that.”

“Fair enough,” Cherish said, shrugging. “But you know I don’t do rules.”

Naija rolled her eyes but didn’t push the point. “Just get your ass into the dining room when this is ready.”

Once the bread was in the oven, I busied myself wiping down the counter and cleaning up as I went, anything to keep my hands busy.

As soon as it was done, Naija went into dictator mode.

“Alright, team effort, let’s get this table set. Liza, Daniella—plates and cutlery. Autumn, bring out the salad and bread. Cherish, drinks. Jason and Ryan, you’re on chairs. Let’s move, people.”

We all laughed, moving to do what she instructed. Liza headed toward the cabinets, her long blonde curls swaying as she reached up to grab the stack of plates. Her pale blue eyes scanned the table as she began setting them down.

“Do we need the fancy forks, or are we sticking to average tonight?” I asked with a playful grin, holding up the mismatched set of cutlery.

“Mismatched works,” Naija said cheerfully, waving me off. “This isn’t the damn Ritz.”

Daniella grabbed the cutlery from me. “I got this. You focus on your given task.”

“Bossy much?” I teased, sticking my tongue out.

I carried the salad bowl and breadbasket out of the kitchen, placing them in the center of the table. The bread was golden brown, still warm and fragrant from the garlic butter I’d slathered on earlier. Moose padded after me, his nose sniffing the air eagerly.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him. He let out a small huff, but he stayed put.

Naija emerged from the kitchen carrying the bubbling dish of her infamous mac and cheese, golden and crusted with breadcrumbs. Behind her, Cherish followed with a pitcher of sweet tea in one hand and a bottle of 1800 in the other.

We were gonna pay the price for mixing all these liquors.

“What else?” she asked, glancing around the table. She’d changed into a loose sweater and joggers, her long black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

“Gravy!” Naija said, spinning on her heel and disappearing back into the kitchen.

As the dishes came together, the table looked like something out of a cozy autumn magazine spread. The roasted chicken was the centerpiece, golden and crispy, surrounded by roasted vegetables—carrots, Brussels sprouts, and sweet potatoes glistening with olive oil and herbs. There was the mac and cheese, the garlic bread, and the salad I’d thrown together with spinach, arugula, cherry tomatoes, and cucumbers, all lightly dressed. A bowl of creamy mashed potatoes sat at one end, next to the gravy boat Naija returned with, and a plate of steamed green beans at the other.

“Damn, this looks good,” Jason said as he set down the last of the chairs to make room for everyone. “You guys went all out. It’s like a pre-thanksgiving.”

“That’s what happens when you put Naija in charge of the kitchen,” Daniella chirped.

She pointed at Naija. “You’re a culinary goddess, babe.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Naija retorted with a grin, setting the gravy down next to the potatoes. She vanished then reappeared with the box she’d been talking about, which was really just an old shoe carton. “Alright, people, phones up.”

One by one, we dropped them into. Liza and Daniella went first, followed by Jason and Ryan, then Cherish. I hesitated for a moment, my thumb brushing over my screen, before finally letting go and adding it to the pile.

Naija raised her glass once everyone was seated. “Here’s to good food, good company, and forgetting about all the bullshit for the weekend.”

“Hear, hear,” Daniella chimed, clinking her glass against Naija’s before turning to the rest of us. “Now, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Conversation flowed, and the atmosphere around the dining table grew warm and easy.

Moose had settled at my feet, occasionally glancing up with big, hopeful eyes.

He was waiting for someone to drop a crumb. I may have snuck him one or two.

“So,” Jason began, leaning back in his chair, his drink in hand. “What do you do for work now, Autumn? You always seemed like someone who’d end up doing something cool.”

I smiled faintly. “I do content strategy and brand consulting for a few companies. It’s flexible, so I can work from wherever, and it pays really well. Not exactly glamorous, but I like it.”

His brows lifted. “That actually sounds amazing. Flexible, good pay. What’s not to like?”

Daniella leaned in, smirking as she poured herself yet another drink. The girl was throwing them back. “Autumn’s probably making more than all of us combined.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not like that. I just got lucky landing a couple of decent contracts.”

“Well, good for you,” Naija said, her locs swaying as she nodded. I could tell she meant it. “Working online sounds like a dream. I can barely handle my nine-to-five as it is.”

“Same,” Liza added, glancing up from her chicken. “I’d kill for something like that. What’s the secret?”

“Networking,” I replied with a shrug. “And maybe a little bit of timing. A lot of it is just knowing how to pitch yourself, honestly.”

“That makes sense,” Ryan said, his tone thoughtful. “I mean, you always were sharp. Guess that hasn’t changed.”

Daniella grinned. “Someone’s enamored.”

He chuckled. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Naija leaned forward. “So, is it weird working from home all the time? Like, don’t you get bored or lonely?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted, “but I stay busy enough that it’s not too bad. And, honestly, the flexibility makes up for it. I can work in my pajamas if I want to, so that’s a win.”

“Okay, that’s a serious perk,” Liza agreed with a grin. “I’d trade my commute for that any day.”

Cherish, who had been listening quietly, finally chimed in. “Well, even when she’s not technically working, she’s working.”

“True,” Daniella chimed in, shooting me a playful look. “You need to chill more, Autumn.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “I think this is me working on it.”

The conversation bounced from work woes to memories of high school and college, to half-hearted debates about who had the best taste in music. At one point, Ryan’s smile widened, and for a moment, I felt his gaze linger just a little too long.

Daniella rescued me and shifted the focus back to him, her grin mischievous. “Alright, Ryan, what about you? What’s life been like since your golden boy quarterback days?”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Still coaching, mostly. I’ve got a gig lined up for the fall, but for now, it’s a lot of training camps and filling in where I can.”

“Must be nice,” Naija said, tilting her head. “I can’t imagine working with a bunch of high school boys, though. I’d lose my mind.”

“You get used to it,” he replied easily. “Though, yeah, some of them test your patience. It’s worth it when you see them grow and start taking it seriously.”

“Spoken like a true mentor,” Liza teased. “Bet you’re a favorite, huh?”

Ryan smirked. “I try.”

After the plates were cleared and everyone started to relax, Daniella leaned back in her chair, swirling her half-empty glass.

“Alright, we’ve got options for after this amazing meal. More alcohol, obviously, and a game. Something fun.”

“Like what?” Cherish asked, arching a brow as she took a sip of her drink.

“Let’s see... Uno? That always gets heated. Or Pictionary—though Naija would absolutely crush us with her drawing skills. Or,” she paused dramatically, “we go for Bones.”

“Bones?” Gabe tilted his head, his brow furrowing.

“Dominoes,” Liza clarified with a soft laugh. “She just likes stirring the pot.”

“It’s a classic!” Daniella defended. “And there’s nothing like slamming down a winning piece in someone’s face.”

“Except maybe Scrabble,” Naija added. “Though that one gets personal. The arguments over what counts as a word? Brutal.”

“Too much thinking,” Cherish objected. “We’re supposed to be relaxing, not debating the dictionary.”

“I think Uno then,” Jason suggested. “It’s fast, easy, and guaranteed to ruin friendships.”

Daniella pointed her finger at him like she’d just won the lottery. “Yes! That’s exactly the vibe I’m going for.”

“Calm down, bitch,” Liza laughed.

“I’m good with Uno,” I said, shrugging. “But don’t blame me when I hit someone with a stack of Draw Fours.”

“Oh, we’re blaming you already,” Ryan countered, flashing me a grin. “I’m in.”

Naija nodded. “Same. Uno it is, but if someone skips me, it’s on sight.”

“Uno and liquor?” Cherish shook her head, with a laugh. “This is going to end in disaster.”

“And that’s exactly the point,” Daniella replied, smug as ever.

As the laughter died down and everyone started shuffling around the table, I pushed back my chair, stretching lazily.

“Before I get too drunk to remember, I need to take Moose out,” I announced. “He comes first.”

Liza grinned at me and cooed, “Such a good mommy.”

“I do try my best.” I moved from the room and hunted down his leash, him trotting after me. His tail wagged furiously as I clipped it onto his collar. “Alright, big guy let’s go,” I murmured, heading toward the rear glass doors of the enclosed porch.

The outside lights were already on, casting a soft glow over the yard. The air was crisp, biting at my exposed skin as I stepped outside, closing the door behind us. I rubbed my arms through my sweater, grateful I’d kept it on. Moose trotted out ahead, sniffing around the manicured grass like he owned the place.

The yard was beautifully landscaped, with flowers and shrubs lining the edges, but beyond that was nothing but dense woods. The house stood in isolation, surrounded by the dark embrace of the woods, perfect for the quiet weekend. Now that night had fallen, the seclusion went from serene to unsettling.

The chilled air sobered me slightly as I kept pace with Moose. His rounded ears perked up near a cluster of bushes, his posture suddenly alert. I followed his gaze toward the tree line, my stomach knotting. The stillness around us seemed unnatural, the kind of silence that pressed in on you, amplifying every tiny sound. I heard a faint snap , twigs breaking underfoot. The noise was distant, but it was enough to send a chill racing down my spine.

Moose stiffened, his muscular frame going rigid as his stub of a tail lowered. His body vibrated with tension, and I felt my own heartbeat spike in response.

“Don’t even think about it,” I whispered tightening my grip on his collar. He was well-trained, but he was still a dog. If something caught his attention, he could drag my ass straight into the woods without a second thought. The last thing I needed was to stumble after him, drunk and half-blind, into the dark.

I scanned the tree line again.

Shadows danced with the faint sway of branches in the breeze, but nothing moved. Nothing that I could see, yet the prickling sensation along my neck refused to go away. Moose let out a low growl, the sound barely audible. I tugged gently at his leash,

“Come on. Let’s go back inside.”

He didn’t budge. His body stayed taut, his gaze fixed on the same dark patch of forest as if he could see something I couldn’t. My eyes darted back to the tree line, desperate to find what had set him off. A rustle came, softer this time. I tightened my grip on Moose’s leash.

“Moose,” I whispered, my voice barely steady. “Let’s go. Now .”

This time, he obeyed, though his steps were reluctant, his attention still trained on the trees. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone or something was watching us. My hands trembled slightly as I led him back toward the house, the porch light casting a pale glow ahead of us.

I locked the door firmly behind us, shaking off the unease that clung to me. “We’re fine,” I told myself and him, giving him a quick scratch behind the ears after I unclipped the leash. He padded off seemingly unbothered now. I stood there for a few minutes longer, chewing on my bottom lip as my eyes scanned the darkness outside through the windows. I felt stupid when I finally turned away and went to wash my hands.

“Are you good?” Cherish’s voice startled me as I reached the sink.

I hesitated, debating if I should say something or not. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know. It felt like someone was watching me out there.”

“Do you want me to send the guys out to check?”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “No, I didn’t see anything—just trees. Probably nothing. I had Moose out there with me.”

The voices of my friends and the music playing carried through the house, and I let the sound pull me out of my head. I dried my hands and Cherish passed me off a fresh drink.

“I made this while you were out there, figured you’d be ready for the next one.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip.

The burn of the alcohol was a comfort as I followed her back into the dining room, where Daniella was already shuffling the Uno cards with a wicked grin plastered on her face.

We were well into the game, the sound of drunken laughter and slurred insults bouncing off the walls.

I wasn’t sure whether my vision was blurred from the alcohol or from the tears that kept coming as I laughed at Cherish’s attempt to cheat her way to victory.

It took my alcohol-muddled brain a few seconds to register the loud knock that echoed through the house, cutting through the music and conversation. We all exchanged uncertain looks.

“What the hell?” Liza slurred. “Did we order food?”

“No, Miss Piggy,” my sister teased, poking her side and earning a playful swat.

“I’ll see who it is,” Gabe said, pushing back his chair.

“Hold up,” I called, patting my lap to call Moose over. He trotted to my side, his tail wagging lazily as I grabbed his collar to keep him from running toward the door.

Another knock came louder this time, and Naija crept up behind Gabe as he headed for the foyer.

The dining room was tucked away, so none of us could see the door, only hear the knocks as they reverberated through the space. I heard the lock turn and then Gabe’s voice.

“Uh, hey. Can I help you?”

“Is Kristy home?” someone responded, her tone emotionless.

“Kristy? I think you’ve got the wrong house, sweetie,” Naija answered.

Silence followed.

Then, without another word, Gabe shut the door and locked it. They both returned to the dining room, Gabe shaking his head as Naija looked back over her shoulder.

“That was weird as shit,” she said, sliding back into her seat.

“Who was it?” Ryan asked, setting his drink down.

“Some woman,” Naija replied, then frowned as if considering something.

“What did she look like?” I asked, my stomach twisting with unease.

Something about the voice had stuck in my mind, a faint familiarity I couldn’t quite place.

Gabe shrugged, looking as unbothered as ever. “...A woman?”

I rolled my eyes. “Wow, thanks for the vivid description.”

Cherish snorted, shaking her head. “You’re an idiot, Gabe.”

“I don’t know what she looked like!” he defended himself. “She was just… a woman.”

“Helpful,” Daniella said dryly, shuffling the cards in her hands.

I tried to focus on the game again, but my mind kept circling back to the voice.

It had sounded so familiar. The unease lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. I didn’t realize my hands were gripping the table until I caught Ryan’s tipsy gaze across from me.

His expression mirrored my own unease, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as though he was trying to piece something together.

He leaned forward slightly, and before he even opened his mouth, I knew what he was going to say.

“There’s no way it’s her,” he stated. “That place was like… hours back.”

“Who?” Daniella asked, her curiosity piqued as she glanced between us.

Ryan hesitated, and when I didn’t respond fast enough, he filled in the gap. “That girl from the gas station. The one who was creeping around the back.”

“But it did look like her,” Naija replied slowly.

Liza shook her head, her blonde hair bouncing as she dismissed the idea outright. “Can’t be the same girl. No way. Why would she be all the out here?”

“Right,” I said, more to reassure myself than anyone else.

“Let’s just finish the game,” Jason chimed in, clearly wanting to keep things light.

He grabbed the deck of cards and began shuffling, but even with alcohol, my nerves were already shot.