Playing With Fire

Chapter Forty-Six

                                                Recap

            I shut the door behind me and lock it securely before traveling the center of the living room where Travis is seated on the couch a few inches away from the curtains.

         “This could all be solved if they just let you in.” Travis nearly growls, a scowl conquering his features.

              I take a seat on the arm chair beside the window and nod my head in agreement. “Seriously. And at least I would’ve known if they were on the right track at least—I mean what if none of those guys are it.”

            “That’s a good possibility, considering James is most likely behind this.” Travis points out angrily, “He’s good at being bad—I’ll give him credit for that.”

            As he speaks, I hear the sound of a dying engine followed by two distinct voices and slamming doors. Both of our heads snap in the direction of the window.

           My heart begins to race as I recognize the familiar tapping heels and thumping business shoes. It seems after all these years of never hearing them, I’ve grown more familiar to them.

              The sound of Dad’s burgundy leather business shoes pounding on the ragged cement.

             My eyes widen and I instantly leap towards the window. I gently brush aside one of the covers of the curtain to get a better look. I don’t recognize the car—it’s a rental—a very cheap rental accord.

              Then I catch sight of Laura, dashing around the vehicle, only to meet Dad on the other side.

          I throw the curtains forward and spin around to face Travis with an unleashed force of panic. He seems just as concerned, and just as aware of the entire situation before I state it.

                 “My parents are home.” 

                                           Chapter Forty Six 

            "Oh God,” I repeat for the millionth time, pacing near the door as their steps approach the other side. “Should we pretend we’re not home?” 

             Travis exhales sharply, his shoulders expanding as he does so. “We can’t. The Impala is parked out there.”

            I take a quick glance and internally groan, “Right.”

            Reluctantly, I reach for the lock and pull it open. Before I can muster a hello, Dad rushes forward, grabs my arm and pulls my body into his for a warm embrace. Despite the inner battle churning in my gut, screaming in protest at their presence, I sigh and relish the innocently secure aura that surrounds us.

            With my head on his shoulder, I glance up at Laura, who has a small smile plastered on her features as she watches us. I extend my hand out to her from the side of Dad’s torso and she interlaces them with a pleased expression.

         She stares at me, her eyes full of uncertainty and question, while I stare back, willing myself to keep my features void of any negativity. As Dad pulls back, I give Laura’s hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go and stepping away myself.

          “Faye are you okay?” Dad glances down at me, concern and beyond evident in his glassy gaze. His eyes wander, somehow trying to confirm that I am physically fine—it’s now more than ever that I am thankful to be wearing a jacket to cover my prospective lie.