Dirty Secrets

Part 35

Lyla returned to the sanctuary of her home locking the door behind her. Lightheaded, she steadied herself against the wall, her face flushed, her eyes clenched. After a few deep breaths, she jogged to the kitchen cabinet, found the salt shaker, and, with a trembling hand, unscrewed the cap. When she approached the front door, she felt certain that she saw the doorknob moving. Maybe it was the way that the sliver of light slowly rode the top of the dull brass knob as she drew closer. No, it was definitely turning, rotating so gradually, almost imperceptibly. 

"Jack?" she called quietly, her voice momentarily colored with optimism.

She reached for the doorknob but stopped short when she peered through the window. No one stood on the other side of the door. She held her breath as she withdrew her hand. The doorknob turned slowly in the opposite direction. She sprinkled salt across the threshold then backed away. The doorknob went still. 

Startled by a text tone, the salt shaker slipped from her grip. She yanked the phone out of her pocket, gave it a glance, and saw a message from Darcy. Her eyes shifted back to the doorknob. No movement.

Not real. No one there. Breathe.

Darcy: FYI I'm still alive.

Lyla: How bad is it?

Darcy: 🤮

Lyla winced. She picked up the empty salt shaker and deposited it on the kitchen counter. 

Darcy: U ride the bus?

Lyla: Got a ride. Packer.

Darcy: Deets.

She paused for a moment before thumbing her response.

Lyla: He kissed me.

Darcy: You little slut! 

Lyla: 😳

Darcy: Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Lyla: 🤷‍♀️

Darcy: So what about Jack?

Lyla: Like he even cares.

Darcy: Bathroom!!!

Lyla had a pretty good idea of what that meant, no need for clarification, and much appreciation for sparing the gory details. On her way out of the kitchen, she locked eyes on the doorknob. 

It remained motionless. 

She climbed the stairs to her room determined to finish her homework.

........

The hospital's glass doors parted revealing Jack standing on the walkway, looking like a total snack. His alluring brown eyes met hers, elevating Lyla's heart rate. When he smiled, flashing those dimples, her knees went weak.

There's no way a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt should look that good. But on him. Damn. 

"Come 'ere, girl," he said.

She rushed into his arms, slipping hers around his waist. He enveloped her and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"I missed you," she purred, squeezing him. When she tilted her head back and their lips meshed, a familiar hungry spark flickered in the pit of her stomach. 

"Come on," he whispered and led her toward the parking lot, holding her close. "Listen. I've been thinking. Let's just you and me go. Right now."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. Just away from here." He punctuated his declaration with an ardent kiss. Under the influence of infatuation, she swore her feet were floating six inches off the pavement. 

"I got money. Got a new car." He shook his head at the hospital building. "Screw this place. Screw those cops. I say we start over."

"Jack. We can't."

"Can't what?"

"Just go."

He lightly bit her neck then raised his head and found her mouth once again.

CLICK.

She opened her eyes into the realization of lying on her bed, her Chem book straddling her stomach. Her room was dark with no light spilling in from the hallway. She checked her phone. 7:18.

CLICK then the truncated tone. 

The doorbell.

She slid from her bed when she heard knocking on the door. 

Lyla crept into the hallway, then descended a few stairs, shrouded in shadow. She squatted, forcing her eyes to dark-adapt to get a better look at an undefined silhouette at the front door furiously working the doorknob. She froze when the door burst open and a figure rushed in. She collapsed backward onto the stairs, eyes wide, unable to speak.

"Did you bolt the door?"

It took a moment for her to realize it was her dad. He found the wall switch and flicked on the light fully exposing his irritation. "Why is it so dark?" He grumbled short of breath. "I couldn't get in. Didn't you hear the doorbell?"

"I fell asleep." She plodded down the stairs. "I think something's wrong with it."

"With the doorbell? Or the door?" he asked with a sour disposition. "You must have turned the deadbolt."

"No, I didn't."

He noticed the line of salt on the floor. "What's this?"

"Dad. I just woke up. So many questions."

His brow furrowed when he turned his attention toward her dark bedroom at the top of the stairs.

"There's nobody else up there, is there?"

"No! I told you. I was doing homework and I fell asleep."

He trudged into the kitchen and turned on the light, crossed the entryway, then clicked on the table lamp in the living room.

"Bad day at work?" she asked as he brushed past.

He leaned out onto the porch and yanked a small stack of envelopes from the mailbox. He sorted through the mail and handed an envelope to her.

"For you."

It was a ragged envelope with Lyla's handwritten name and address badly smudged. She flipped it over. There was no return address.