Tell Me Pretty Lies

Yawning, I trudge into the kitchen to make myself a late-night snack after finishing up the homework I fell behind on. Between Thayer keeping me up all night last night and my game after school today, I can barely keep my eyes open. Not that I’m complaining. It was worth losing sleep and the grief Coach gave me for missing practice.

I grab the cheese and butter from the fridge before I pad over to the stove. I move on autopilot, getting the frying pan and buttering the bread, lost in thought, when I hear the sound of breaking glass coming from the other room. I jump back with a scream, and then I freeze with my hand over my mouth. When I don’t hear anything else, I blindly slap a hand onto the counter behind me, feeling around for my phone. I back into the pantry, shutting the door as quietly as possible as my shaky fingers manage to click on Thayer’s name.

“Shayne?” he asks, concern evident in his tone. I never call him.

I cup my hand over my mouth and the speaker of my phone, trying to keep my voice low. “I think someone just broke into my house.” My heart threatens to pound out of my chest.

“We’re coming,” he says immediately. “Where are you?”

“Hiding in the pantry.”

“Good. Stay there. Don’t come out until you hear me.”

A weird scent hits my nostrils and I inhale, trying to place it. It smells like…burning fabric.

“Shit,” I curse.

“What?” Thayer barks into the phone.

“I think I smell something burning.”

Thayer’s panicked voice yells something to Holden, presumably, and then I hear the telltale sign of his Hellcat. He says something else, but adrenaline has my pulse pounding in my ears, making it hard to hear.

I slowly open the pantry door and peek my head out. When I don’t see anyone, I grab the frying pan off the stove and rush out, running toward the front living room, confirming my fear. A small fire blazes on the floor in front of the broken window. “There’s a fire,” I manage to say before I drop both the phone and the frying pan.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I chant, trying to form a coherent thought. Fire extinguisher. I know I saw one somewhere when we moved in. I jog over to the entryway closet and open the door, spotting the red container on the shelf above my head. I push up onto my toes to reach it, stretching my arm as far as possible, the tips of my fingers barely grazing it. I jump up, trying to knock it off the shelf, but I only end up pushing it back farther.

I yank a hanger from beneath a coat and use that instead. “Come on, come on.” Finally, I’m able to scoop it off the shelf and catch it before it hits the floor. I rush over, willing my shaky hands to comply long enough to do what needs to be done. Pulling on the ring, I squeeze down on the handle, and then a white cloud explodes from the nozzle, extinguishing the fire.

Pounding at the front door makes me jump, but then I see a stunned Holden standing in front of the shattered picture window. I hurry over to unlock the door and Thayer storms in, surveying the place.

“You okay?” he asks, looking me over.

Still in shock, all I can do is nod.

“I’m going to check the woods,” Holden says before he takes off, and then Thayer’s pulling me into him, prying the extinguisher from my fingers until it falls to the floor.

“You sure you’re okay??

? His palms cup my face, forcing me to look at him.

I nod again and his fingers curl around the nape of my neck as he bends down to give me a quick kiss on the lips.

“Did you see anyone?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I was just making something to eat and heard the window shatter,” I say, gesturing toward the huge hole in my window. “And then I called you.”

“You didn’t call the cops? Or anyone else?”

“Just you. I figured you were closer—” I start to explain, but he cuts me off.

“No, you did good. This is good.”

He steps away from me, feet crunching through the broken glass, and then he’s crouching down, plucking something from the floor, inspecting it.

“What is it?”

“It’s a piece of a beer bottle.”