Chapter 8

Persistent knocking echoed from the front door. I moved from the kitchen down the first-floor hallway to the door and pulled it open. A woman and a small girl stood hand in hand staring at me. Neither smiled. Neither looked familiar. "Can I help you?" I asked.

"We're looking for Marty Richmond," the woman said.

"Can I tell him who's here?" I asked.

"Tell him Misty from San Diego."

A pit formed in my stomach. "No last name?"

"He'll know," she assured me.

"Peyton?" a deep voice from somewhere far away called.

"Why will he know?" I asked her.

Misty's eyes cut to the little girl beside her.

"Peyton?" the deep voice repeated, trying to get me out of that hallway.

"Why will he know?" I asked, the desperation in my voice impossible to disguise.

"Peyton, wake up," Crew said, shaking me.

My eyes popped open. Sweat beaded to my hairline and tears glazed my eyes as the auburn hues of dawn filled my room.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded, though I knew I was far from it.

"It was just a dream," he assured me.

His assurance that it was only a dream couldn't erase the memory of that day. Nothing could. Because the truth was, it wasn't just a dream. It was how it all played out last summer. But Misty wasn't the woman who'd shown up. One night it was Candy from Minnesota. Other times it was Angel from Colorado. Sometimes Vikki from Boston. Or even Santana from New York. My subconscious was telling me there were more women. But the little girl was always the same. Those haunting blue eyes belonged to my father. "I…" I choked on the word. "It was nothing."

"It didn't sound that way."

I closed my eyes; I didn't want him to see me that way.

"Do you remember what it was about?" he pried.

"No," I lied, quickly rolling off the bed and onto my feet. "I've gotta go," I said as I took off for the door.

"Wait!" he called.

But, I was already gone, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable and nauseous. I didn't want him consoling me. I was tougher than that.

I locked myself in my bedroom and then hurried into the shower, standing in there for far longer than necessary. I felt so stupid. It was one thing for Crew to find out about my nightmares the way he had, but to try to be there for me was not something I needed from him. If Gina knew we were sleeping in the same bed, she'd say something like, ‘It seemed like you needed him.' Or, ‘It's good to need other people.' But Crew wasn't other people. He was someone who rubbed me the wrong way. Someone who took what he wanted when he wanted it. Case in point, him tracking me down last night and sleeping in the guest room. He had to know I wasn't going to be a groupie.

I finally switched off the shower and got out, wrapping myself in a towel. Now what? All of my stuff was in the guest room. I cracked the door and checked the hallway; it was empty. My father's voice trickled upstairs from the kitchen below. I listened closely and heard Crew speaking too.

I tiptoed back to the guest room and locked myself inside. I texted with my mom and watched some videos on my phone—anything to avoid a run-in with him.

Sometime later, tires crunched over the gravel in the driveway. I climbed off my bed and moved to the window that overlooked the front yard. My father's car pulled away while my mother's Jeep remained in the driveway where it had been since I arrived.

Shuffling in the hallway drew my attention to the door. Then, a piece of paper slipped underneath.

I tiptoed to it and picked it up.

Open up

I rolled my eyes and spoke through the door. "What is it, Crew?"

"Just checking if you're all right."

"People text or DM these days."

"I'm not people."

I huffed my annoyance. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You ran away this morning."

"No, I didn't. I just had better things to do," I lied.

"You don't need to be embarrassed. Everyone has bad dreams."

"I'm not embarrassed," I snapped.

"Whatever."

"We're not friends, Crew. Just leave me alone."

He was silent for a long time. And, then his footsteps retreated down the hall and my bedroom door closed.

That was the last I heard from him that day.

And I slept alone that night.