#“i got wrapped up in the game again” avery. coded.

[all-too-unwell-13]

is it just me or is 'girl i've always been' by olivia rodrigo kind of avery grambs coded????

[charlenasaxen]

“include a tightness in my jaw, increased heart rate, and a desire to use foul language in particularly creative combinations.”

“A twist befitting of a Hawthorne game, is it not? Misdirection and illusions in place of truth.”

“But this? It’s senseless, and I assure both of you, that is one thing that Hawthorne games are not.”

“Listening to Grayson, it was impossible for Lyra not to believe him”

Grayson ordered through the darkness.

“Layers upon layers.” Odette’s voice never changed.

Then a familiar, if tinny, voice: “No, sunshine, you don’t.”

“Even the way a person stacks their chips can tell me everything I need to know.”

“If I told you every time you were wrong about something, there would hardly be time for anything else.”

“Savannah was doing this for her father.

Rohan wasn’t there—yet.”

“You’re Grayson Hawthorne’s half sister,” Rohan murmured, “as you’re so very fond of pointing out.”

“It was also a warning. And a promise. I will betray you. You will betray me.”

The fabric began to tear.

“Rohan?” Savannah sundered the fan. “We have a deal.”

“A Hawthorne and a girl who has every reason to stay away from Hawthornes.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind elaborating,” Grayson said, his tone pure steel

“There was a thud—a loud one. Her body, hitting the floor.”

A breath caught in Lyra’s throat.

“I’ve got you,” Grayson repeated.”

“You heard your brother. The show goes on.”

To the dock. To answers. “I say we take our hint.”

“I’m Gigi, and I will be the one baffling you today.”

“Gigi was going to go out on a limb and guess that it wasn’t Code Name Mimosas”

“She’d come clean. She’d tell Avery or maybe Xander everything.”

“Gigi told her teammates and the stranger who was probably listening”

“No, her smile was ecstasy and victory, and Rohan drank it in like wine”

“every last damn thing—fell into place. “The birthday card,” he said.”

“Clair de Lune” filled the air.

Moonlight.

The door before them opened straight to the rocky shore.

“Grayson, whose expression made it clear: He would handle this, Hawthorne versus Hawthorne.”

Grayson’s eyes narrowed very slightly. “Two.”

“Excellent choice,” Jameson replied.

Grayson’s eyes narrowed further. “Jamie—”

“Avery Grambs had clearly been listening to the interplay between the brothers”

“I know what you’re doing, Avery.” Grayson said the heiress’s name like he’d thought it ten thousand times or more.

“Avery,” Grayson said again. “Jamie?”

“His silvery eyes shifted slowly to Lyra. After a long moment, he began to draw.”

“And each time he looked up, Lyra felt his gaze as a physical thing. Burned into skin.”

“In the lines of Odette’s face, she saw the young woman. In Odette’s eyes, Lyra saw lifetimes.

And pain.”

“Lyra’s hands imagined what it would be like to draw Grayson Hawthorne. All sharp angles, except for those lips.”

“The image on the page wrapped an iron fist around Lyra’s heart and stole the air from her lungs.

A calla lily.”

“Another riddle.” Knox sounded only slightly murderous, which Gigi took as a sign of personal growth.

“They didn’t have forever. Dawn was coming—and with it, a reckoning.”

“In other circumstance, she would have grinned, but she was beyond grinning now”

“No Hawthornes. No Hawthorne heiress.”

She stopped suddenly and turned back toward him. “Truth or dare.”

“Not by anyone who valued their life or livelihood. Not even here, in the dead of night, alone.”

“An answer, partial, but true. One word. “Revenge.”

“Now draw your Hawthorne, the way I once drew mine.”

“Lyra couldn’t muster the ability to tell Odette that Grayson wasn’t and could never be her Hawthorne”

“Grayson’s jaw first, then brow, then cheekbones.”

“Grayson brought his hands to her face, his palms on her cheeks as his fingertips cradled her jaw”

“He was always so damn impossible to ignore”

“And on and on it went. Grayson and Odette began fitting the images together like a puzzle.”

“They hit the ground like raindrops.

Like shrapnel.”

“Lyra flipped the switch, and just like that, a section of wall became a door.

They were out.”

“She was able to reach two with her own hands. Brady did the third. The symbols depressed. There was a pop.”

“It couldn’t be much.

Get out. Get down to the dock. Then deal with the rest.”

“They had time—minutes, maybe, or seconds, but time.”

“And then her toe caught on something.

And then Gigi fell.”

Suddenly, Knox was kneeling beside her. “You okay, Happy?”

“He slipped an arm under hers, and the next thing Gigi knew, Knox was carrying her”

“Dawn. Her throat tightened. We didn’t make it. They’d been so close.”

“Don’t be. That was what Brady had said to her the last time she’d apologized.”

“Yeah, Happy,” Knox said, stepping past the game makers and onto the dock. “Me, too.”

“Severin,” Brady said after a long moment, “had cancer.”

“except coming from Grayson, it wasn’t a suggestion”

“Avery ignored Knox in favor of coming to stand next to Grayson”

“Grayson stayed right where he was, an arm wrapping protectively around Gigi’s shoulders”

“Once a player, always a player,” Jameson said

“he displaced Grayson at her side, the way only Grayson’s older brother could”

“But not now.

Right now, Savannah was wearing her game face.”

“He’d heard Savannah’s sharp intake of breath when her twin’s head had slammed into that boulder”

“Savannah was watching Avery Grambs”

“Her gaze went first to Grayson, who was still standing near his injured sister”

“Lyra’s gaze shifted to Grayson, who looked back at her, a silent exchange”

“There was only one Hawthorne on this dock who mattered to Lyra”

“That’s not why you’re leaving. Lyra knew it. She knew that Grayson knew it, too.

This was about Lyra and Grayson. The right kind of disaster just waiting to happen.”

“I’m out of the game, Daniels, and you’re not. It must seem like justice to you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lyra said. A chill spread down her spine.

“Alice.” Grayson went very still. “My grandmother. She died before I was born.”

“There are always three.” There was something eerie

“‘Men like us love only once.’ That is what my grandfather told my brother Jameson and myself.”

“Enough.” Grayson had clearly reached his limit. “My grandmother was buried. She has a gravestone.”

“That my grandfather never said a word to anyone? Like mother, like son?”

Grayson said, his tone ominous, “allow me to cure you of that notion.”

Grayson was not wired to give up. “Three what, exactly?”

Odette let out a breath, suddenly, utterly, and unnaturally calm. “I did not.”

“who, like Grayson, had a protective streak a mile wide. And probably not to Jameson, who was unpredictable”

Brady swore, as intense as she’d ever seen him, “to get her back.”

Her. Knox had been right. It was always Calla.

“All kinds of things can happen,” Brady said quietly, “in a closed system.”

“If you want to get technical, I just placed an order for a backup Viking helmet for my backup Viking helmet,” Xander admitted

“Please tell me that whatever you have planned rhymes with Valhalla or cheesesteak.”

“There was, however, a player to be added. Grayson Hawthorne.”

“Grayson was not a piece to be played but a player. A threat.”

“Rohan settled on the infinity symbol to represent the Hawthorne”

“How will he play?

Brady Daniels.

Grayson Hawthorne.

Lyra Kane.”

“Grayson fancies himself my protector,” Savannah said. “He would have put you down in a heartbeat.”

“What I need,” she whispered, her lips very close to his, “is none of your concern.”

“Some were necessary, the way breathing was.

Some kisses made a point.”

“the power of that touch exploded through Rohan’s body like fireworks”

“like she could sense the darkness, like she wanted to see it”

“And just like that, Grayson was there. This time, Lyra felt his approach. She turned and opened her eyes.”

“There was no arguing with that voice. No arguing with Grayson Hawthorne.”

“looking at him again, ripping him apart with her gaze”

“I have always cared.” Grayson’s words came out rough and raw.

“And your voice… just the sound of it, Lyra.” Grayson looked away

“That day, when you called, I was hurting.” Grayson angled his eyes up

“I regretted telling you to stop calling. Immensely. I kept waiting for you to call again.”

“And my brothers and Avery—they didn’t.”

Lyra’s gaze snapped right back to his face.

“Grayson said, his voice low, the emphasis unmistakable. You. Here.”

“Grayson didn’t argue with her. He didn’t have to. He was Grayson Hawthorne. His eyes did it for him.”

“Finally, Grayson spoke, the intensity in his voice matched in every line of his stone-carved face”

And Odette had also been one of Avery’s picks.

“Savannah. Brady. Odette.”

“She flashed back to the masquerade ball, to dancing with Grayson”

“A wild card,” Grayson said.

But Lyra hadn’t come to them.

“The ink was dark blue.

“The notes on the trees.”

“Someone had wanted her here.

Someone knew her father’s names.

And Grayson had looked for her. A floodgate broke inside of Lyra.”

“Lyra reached for Grayson anyway. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck.”

“Grayson finished, his hand going to her cheek.

Lyra didn’t pull back. He was a Hawthorne. That Hawthorne.

Your Hawthorne.”

“But as Grayson lowered his lips, Lyra rose up on her toes, tilted her head.”

“Her long-held memory of that kiss gave way to this kiss. And this kiss was everything.”

“I’m going to tell Grayson you’re on Hawthorne Island,” she warned

“than that she was young and rich and had a twisted connection to the Hawthorne family”

“No response. The wind whipped at Gigi’s hair. She started to turn—and a hand clamped over her mouth.”

“Easy there, sunshine.”

The Grandest Game Favorite Quotes

“There was a price to be paid for power, always. The only question was how steep that price was”

Rohan opted for a different tactic. “We both know I’m a magnificent bastard.”

There it was: the game, the stakes, the threat.

“Go,” the Proprietor said, blocking the way back to Rohan’s rooms. “Now.”

“Look for an opening. Look for a loophole. Look for a weakness. His mind churning, Rohan looked for a pint.”

“Fortunately, Avery Grambs had never been a member of the Devil’s Mercy.

Hello, loophole.”

“Rohan’s lips curved, more on one side than the other”

“Were two of them opposites? Did one of those opposites vary from the remaining choices only by nuance?”

“I’m not in this class,” Lyra repeated. “I fell asleep in the prior lecture.”

“trick questions backfires if the person taking the test knows how to look for tricks.”

“For the past three years, Lyra had done everything she could to seem normal, to be normal”

“the woods and the creek and generations of Kanes carving their names into the same tree”

“Lyra had grown up at Mile’s End. She’d carved her name into that tree”

“She was just treading water.

But that was better than drowning.”

“But sometimes, all you could do was push.”

“No, Lyra thought, picking up the ball. A circus. The circus of assholes probably wasn’t expecting her to punt the ball over their heads.”

Ricocheted off, and smacked the jerk who’d catcalled her in the back of his head.

“No,” Lyra called out. “I didn’t.”

“a message scrawled across it in dark-blue ink. YOU DESERVE THIS.”

“The words engraved above the code were instantly recognizable.

The Grandest Game.”

“A steady hand caught her elbow. A suit-clad arm encircled her waist.”

“He made things happen in an instant. Grayson Hawthorne bled power.”

“He won arguments with a single arch of his sharply angled blond brows!”

“Grayson, however, was impossible to take off guard”

“A group effort between the Hawthorne brothers and the Hawthorne heiress”

“Avery and Jamie requested I be boots on the ground. I’ll be running things.”

“Gigi had gathered—through her powers of inference and also snooping”

“Grayson was the grandson that billionaire Tobias Hawthorne had molded from childhood to be the perfect heir: formidable, commanding”

“Am I to take it that your mahogany bedframe is now residing in someone else’s home?”

“Anticipating—correctly—that he was about to have a very large cat placed on his head”

Grayson did not vamoose. “I have something for you.” He reached inside the jacket of his Armani suit.

“It’s yours if you want it.” Grayson’s voice was softer now. He wasn’t a soft person.

“If I had a tenner, Rohan thought, for every time someone pointed a gun at the back of my head…”

“Sitting on the edge of a bed that was not his, wearing nothing but a lush Turkish cotton robe, Rohan twirled a knife slowly”

“He lost the robe but kept the knife”

“A bishop, a rook, a knight, two pawns, and a queen.”

“if any of them had the versatility of the queen”

“A Hawthorne did this.

And then, a riddle: What begins a bet? Not that.”

“You’re late,” he called.

“If by late, you mean early.”

Lyra froze. She knew that voice.

Grayson Hawthorne.

“I assume, Jamie, that you’re aware that you’re being watched.”

“his gaze going back to Lyra’s, his lips slowly curving into that smile”

“Jameson flew the helicopter, which surprised Lyra less than the fact that Grayson deigned to ride in back”

“a sharp jawline, and he wore an expensive fleece sports vest over a collared shirt”

“worse things in the world than being handed a strategic advantage, right off the bat”

“rich, dark blue woven through with shades of green just as deep”

“He had the kind of face that looked like it had been carved from ice or stone—sharp angles, hard jaw, lips full”

“Grayson Hawthorne looked, in Lyra’s opinion, exactly like he sounded, like weaponized perfection”

“Or would you prefer I rephrase the question: On whom am I about to hang up?”

“Lyra’s heart rate ticked up. Forget Grayson. Forget the Hawthornes. They’d been children.”

“Jameson looked from Grayson to Lyra and smiled”

“Lyra’s eyes flew open. Grayson Hawthorne stared back at her.”

The two of them were standing far too close.

“You are aware that there is a cliff here?”

“Lyra looked down at his hand on her arm, and he dropped it”

“if you intend to make your recklessness my problem, you should expect that problem to be solved.”

She hadn’t even heard him move.

Lyra swallowed. “You’re in my way.”

“There was something gallant about the motion, a match for the finely tailored black suit”

“Recovering.”

“A recovering physicist?”

“The entire ocean-side wall of the house looked to be made of glass”

“She’d won her ticket, one of only four wild cards in the world”

“Gigi hadn’t spent that much time with her half brother’s half brothers”

“This was a competition. Gigi scuffed the chalk off with the heel of her hand.”

“They were talking about a girl, and, from what I gather, she’s dead.”

“She slid her arm under the chain, looping it over her shoulder, and began to climb.”

“Oh, he liked her. Rohan had a certain appreciation for being put in his place.”

“She let go with one hand and lifted the chain off her shoulder and up over the top of the flagpole”

“Your knee, Savannah.” Grayson Hawthorne bore a striking resemblance to his half sister.

“there is some chance he’s carrying a grudge about that whole business with the ribs.”

Ran a little experiment. “But that would require turning all of my attentions to Lyra Kane.”

“when her entire body was on fire? Then she climbed, exploring the cliffs and the rocky shore below.”

“More pages.

She bolted from one tree to the next.”

“She watched as her biological father’s name—all of his names, variations on a theme—burned to ash”

“so pale a blond it looked almost silver”

“The last thing Lyra noticed was the girl’s eyes. Grayson Hawthorne’s eyes.”

“But cruel? Avery Grambs and the Hawthornes four? I think not.”

“Ignore him,” Savannah advised. “It’s good for the soul.”

“And just like that. The gloves come off.”

“A delicate gold chain held a stone the exact deep blue-green as the ocean”

“I’m talking drawer in the morgue, I’ve been refrigerated, and steps have been taken to prevent me from resurrecting myself.”

“she hadn’t said anything to suggest that it was a particularly nefarious death”

“I take back my appreciation of your eyebrows.”

“Tick-tock, little girl.”

“Sunset’s coming, and you’re on the wrong side of the island. I run a five-minute mile. I’m betting you don’t.”

He sighed. “If this is about your brother’s ribs…”

“But Nash Hawthorne wasn’t looking for another little brother”

“Congratulations, by the way,” he called after Nash. “On the babies.”

“Crossing the threshold into an enormous foyer, she saw a white spiral staircase”

“It had been built into the cliff”

“marked by a card on which a name had been written in extravagant calligraphy”

“Conceited vest, darkened soul. Lyra had to hand it to Gigi: That was descriptive.”

“DON YOUR COSTUME AND YOUR MASK.

THE BALL BEGINS AT QUARTER PAST.”

“bodice was a dark navy blue, almost black, like the ocean at midnight”

“She lifted the gown off the bed, revealing a mask, delicate and jeweled, underneath”

“Surely those were rhinestones. Surely those weren’t diamonds, arranged in elaborate, hypnotic swirls.”

“inch by inch, to a brilliant blue that gave way to a light, frothy one”

“but not this. She hadn’t expected it to feel like this. Like magic.”

“Lyra stared at herself, and then the words on the mirror changed. GAME ON.

She put on the mask.”

“A library. Lyra took three steps forward—and spun.”

“stained glass that, in daylight, would have cast colored light across the gleaming wood”

“the skirt full and covered in breathtaking stitching in a shade of silver like moonlight on water”

“black gold? If so, some artisan had cajoled it into delicate, interlocking tendrils”

“Not a player. “You’re Avery Grambs.” The Hawthorne heiress.

“The one at the center of this game. The billionaire. The philanthropist. The Avery Kylie Grambs.”

“When she’d gathered herself, when she glanced back—

The Hawthorne heiress was gone.”

“Avery Grambs was nowhere in sight. It was like the heiress had disappeared into thin air.”

“Towering chocolate and white chocolate fountains sat opposite Greek columns. Each column boasted a platter piled high with meat or fruits.”

“Soaring ceilings boasted an elaborate crystal chandelier”

“an unvarnished panorama of the Pacific Ocean at twilight. Thousands of fairy lights dotted the rocky shore.”

“based on the number of tuxedo-clad masked men present, at least some of the Hawthorne brothers had to be there”

“Not Grayson. Lyra couldn’t shake the feeling that she would have recognized him instantly, no matter the mask he wore.”

“how striking the other girl looked draped in ice-blue silk”

“they walked in a slow, seductive circle around each other. The dance looked like it had been lifted from another era, watching the two of them circle each other, Lyra found it hard to breathe.”

“The stork flies at half past ten,” he said dramatically. “The hummingbird eats a cookie. My dog is named Tiramisu.”

Grayson had displaced him. “May I cut in?”

“She’d known that she would recognize him, no matter the mask. His was black. No adornments. Just… black.”

“They were circling each other now, their hands barely touching. Lyra had never felt so aware of every inch of skin.”

“The music changed, and with it, the dance. Grayson effortlessly took Lyra’s hand.”

“A Hawthorne did this. Lyra steeled herself against the feel of Grayson’s hand on her back, the interweaving of their fingers.”

“he would have—the way Avery Grambs apparently had for the Grandest Game”

“Grayson Hawthorne could damn well move mountains with a flick of his wrist”

“she would have cut him down, but he was Grayson Hawthorne”

“Except,” Grayson said, the oddest undercurrent in his tone, “for me to stay out of your way.”

“That’s the only thing I could ever want from you, Hawthorne boy.”

“Focus on them. Not him. Never him.”

“the remaining Hawthorne brothers took up position around Jameson and Avery”

“think of the five of them as anything other than a unit against the world”

“The masks you’re wearing tonight,” Jameson said, “are yours to keep.”

“The people in this room with you tonight are the only ones who will ever know what it was like to play.”

“From now through the ends of your lives, that’s something you’ll share.”

“Growing up,” Jameson said, looking at each of his brothers in turn, “it was something of a rite of passage in Hawthorne House to receive a pin.”

“Win or lose, you’re all a part of something now.”

Avery smiled. “You are not alone.”

“Every story has its beginning, Knox.” Avery’s voice took on an almost musical lilt.

“Until then…” Avery held out an arm out for Jameson, who took it. “Follow us.”

She realized that she’d just stepped from rocks to sand. Black sand.

“Shoes off,” Jameson called out. Clearly, he was enjoying this.

“like she was some kind of demented Olympic discus thrower. Knox had cursed her out and gone after the bag”

“Through the bathroom wall, she heard someone in the next room turn on the shower.”

“Instead, she looked to the floor, where Brady’s tuxedo was strewn”

“Odette hurled the glass box to the ground. It shattered, shards raining down into the crevices.”

“Neither the gown nor the chain seemed to slow her down. They should have.”

“I am not in the habit of wanting things. I set goals. I achieve them.”

“Grayson Hawthorne stepped into the room unaccompanied”

“suddenly unmistakable now: a heart, a diamond, a club.

Three symbols. Three teams.”

“There are three teams,” Avery reiterated, her voice coming from all around them. “And eight players.”

“Search that tuxedo, Mr. Hawthorne. I wager you’ll find one of these.”

“Ten feet away from Lyra, Grayson executed an efficient search of his tuxedo”

“In the end, to win it all, one must best a Hawthorne.”

“for that dance and the way she could still feel his hand on her back—Grayson Hawthorne owed her”

“face the last person on the planet she wanted to be locked in a room with”

“Grayson stared back at Lyra, his pupils expanding, inky black”

“It hardly seems I have a choice,” he said. “I value my life, and you appear to have a temper.” Muscles shifted over his granite jaw, like he’d entertained the idea of smiling.

“Locked in. With Grayson Hawthorne.”

Grayson walked to stand directly behind her and translated: “And so it begins.”

“but there was an intensity to him that could not be ignored”

“covered in the remains of the hourglass. Shards.

A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.”

“Ask me how often I won my grandfather’s games,” Grayson suggested silkily

“Lyra reached for the poetry magnets. Grayson did the same. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand.”

Grayson’s gaze settled on hers. He arched a brow. “Are we going to have a problem here, Lyra?”

“Rest assured, Lyra.” Grayson’s voice was low and smooth

“Tuxedo Abs, because hey, the man was built”

“on the three obvious desk drawers and the hidden one on this side, which I’m sure you’ve both already noticed, right?”

“And speaking of, am I the only one who’s noticed that chair is made of swords?”

Gigi could see the effort it took Knox not to look down.

“She knew what it was like to be a part of that kind of we.

And then, suddenly, not to be.”

“The eighth player is your brother.”

“Half brother.”

“Do you intend to keep that appendage?”

Savannah caught his wrist.

“I assume that you are also attached to your appendages.”

“A beam of light and a concave mirror.”

“Grayson flicked a button open on his tuxedo jacket with one hand”

“I could do that. Lyra looked up to see a single strand of blond hair fall into that stone-carved face of his.”

Certain words cropped up again and again.

“Power, crown, adage.”

“It took Lyra a moment, but she got there. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

“Grayson Hawthorne had the kind of presence that extended well past his body”

“Or do we have to earn that information, your highness?”

“I’m feeling magnanimous.” Grayson’s lips twitched.

“That same damn strand of blond hair fell into Grayson’s face a second time. He brushed it back.”

“Grayson ran his hands over the granite, left to right, then down, his movements automatic”

“aware on some level that she’d adopted Grayson’s exact pattern of movement”

“The number of scars my brothers have obtained directly after uttering the statement I can handle a little glass means you will have to forgive my skepticism.”

“Suddenly, Grayson’s fingers were right next to hers. True to his vow, he didn’t allow their hands to so much as brush.”

“It sank inch by inch, crystals vibrating with the movement, clinking”

extended her gesture to encompass Lyra. “You’re going to have to lift her up.”

“She knew already how Grayson’s touch could linger”

“Remember an interview she’d seen, years earlier. Grayson Hawthorne and Avery Grambs. That kiss.”

“there is again an adage and a crystal chandelier.”

“And there is, again,” Odette added, “a girl.”

“Grayson’s touch was gentle, but it wasn’t light”

“His fingers wrapped around the front of her body, spanning her hipbones”

Lyra ripped the bandage off and beat him to counting. “Three.”

Grayson lifted her up and over his head.

“Grayson’s hand moved upward to her back, which arched in response”

“Grayson slid the other one down, gripping her thigh through the gown”

“It shouldn’t have felt like a pas de deux. Swan Lake. She shouldn’t have felt Grayson Hawthorne’s touch like an invitation, a beckoning.”

“Not on him. The gown, his hand, my thigh—”

“beneath her, Grayson began to rotate. Slowly. Delicately.”

“Crystal after crystal after crystal.

Lyra breathed, and she felt him with every damn breath.”

“The next thing she knew, both of Grayson’s hands were on her thighs”

“Got it.” The words came out guttural.

“Grayson caught her around the waist an instant before she would have landed”

“Just like that, his touch was gone”

“a honey-whiskey whisper that sounded raw, even to her own ears”

“I need a moment.” The muscles across Grayson’s shoulder blades pulled visibly.

“What are you doing?” Grayson’s moment must have ended—either that, or he could multitask.

“The Grandest Game is a real family affair this year, isn’t it?”

“Gigi could feel another nepotism rant coming”

“Gigi fell. Knox caught her. His rehabilitation had officially begun.”

“every visible muscle tensed beneath his apparently thin dress shirt”

“I triple-majored in undergraduate. My brain likes A Lot.”

Gigi smiled—and not slightly.

“glorious though she might be, is an asset—a queen, perhaps, but a game piece nonetheless.”

“He’d spoken those words from the floor. Lyra’s eyes flew open. Grayson was kneeling.”

“Being wrong,” Grayson said.

“You have to practice being wrong?”

Grayson kept right on. “And some of us live with each and every mistake we make carved into us, into hollow places we don’t know how to fill.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “About the nature of this puzzle.”

“Grayson’s voice was edged, each word precise and as sharp as the tip of a knife”

“An anagram.” Grayson was suddenly right there beside her.

“The intensity radiating off Grayson’s body came out in his tone. Lyra matched that intensity.”

“the same word at the same time, his voice low and clear, hers husky, their tones blending together”

“so intense that Lyra could feel it, like a fire burning inside her, like a hollow place suddenly filled”

“A sword. The hilt was simple but beautifully made, gold at the ends.”

“Another second passed, and he turned and gestured—gallantly, of course”

“No.” Lyra gave the sword a test swing. “After you.”

Knox looked away, his body wound tight. “And constellations.”

Brady went very, very still.

“what it might be like to touch Brady’s stomach the way he was touching hers”

“saw the answers, all three of them, all at once”

He could hardly blame her for doing the same. “Then by all means, love, go around me.”

The staircase turned, and Grayson’s voice cut through the darkness. “Take my hand.”

“she could tell he’d turned to face her, and somehow, her body’s sense for his was so strong that she knew exactly where his hand was in the darkness”

“Why would an eighteen-year-old with a multi-million-dollar trust fund need to win the Grandest Game?”

“WAIT, THAT’S NOT RIGHT

AT LEAST THE ANSWER IS BLACK AND WHITE”

“Do I seem as though I consider myself playful?” Grayson replied

“Something she couldn’t quite grasp.

Something forever just out of reach.”

“the cruel beauty of a moment, gone too fast and burned into skin”

“everything makes perfect sense. If an answer fails to reveal the trick.”

“Grayson took the sword. Something about the lines of his body and the way he stood.”

His silvery-gray eyes coming to rest on hers. “I’m rather starting to like them.”

“like it had killed his puppy or given him a wedgie or both”

Whatever advantage Brady’s size gave him, it wouldn’t last.

“Push the button, Gigi.”

“Everything okay?” A voice—Avery’s—sounded

“pretty sure that Avery wasn’t the one snorting”

“Brady, if I win the Grandest Game, I swear I’ll make sure your mom is taken care of.”

“Eventually, I started eating dinner at his house, too. Every night.”

“My mama’s a good cook.”

“Terrified,” Rohan replied. “You have yourself a wager.”

“Grayson Hawthorne’s body was never far from hers”

“She saw that one, stubbornly imperfect bit of his pale blond hair fall carelessly into his eyes. Again.”

“He crossed the chamber in two long strides and slid under Odette’s other arm”

“I also do not need living crutches, and yet, here the two of you are.”

“Has any good ever come of telling a Hawthorne they were wrong?” Odette retorted. She shrugged off Grayson’s arm.

“her chocolate chip pancakes with cream cheese icing and rainbow sprinkles”

“She jabbed the Pointy Finger of Accusation”

“And maybe the players and the game makers aren’t the only ones on Hawthorne Island.”

“he deeply suspected the only way he’d be able to get that chain off Savannah Grayson was by invitation”

“She lunged for the rotary phone, and Rohan remembered her promise”

“He locked an arm around her body, and she bit him, hard enough that he felt it”

As calmly as if they didn’t have each other in painful holds. “Black and white.”

Some whispers were weapons. “One that caters to the very powerful.”

“I can only hope that you appreciate the truly undervalued art of yodeling.”

“Always.” Savannah strode past him into the unknown.

“The man’s was sizzling, as she plucked the martini from his hand and downed it. He leaned forward and brought his lips within inches of hers.

The danger of touch…”

“She’s four years old. Today. Today is her birthday.

Another bang.”

“Lyra.” A voice washed over her, familiar in all the right and wrong ways.

skin against her skin, warmth

“You will come back to me, or I will make you come back to me.”

The real world came into focus, starting with Grayson Hawthorne.

“the lines of his face, sharp cheekbones, stone-cut jaw”

“so warm and steady and gentle and solid and there”

“Grayson’s thumb lightly stroked her cheek”

“What are you doing?” Grayson said, his voice softer than it had any right to be

He adopted what he probably thought was a very pleasant tone. “Why would you want to stay bugged?”

“A something-to-behold, earth-shattering, hope-you-don’t-ever-want-to-breathe-again kind of smile”

nearly so quiet. “Being human. You should try it.”

“that the laws of physics and man did not apply to you”

“Lyra pushed down the urge to follow him. She didn’t need to be close to Grayson.”

“Grayson moved like a shadow, silent and swift”

“In other words,” Lyra said, her voice dry, “yes, you can read Greek.”

Grayson held out a hand. “May I?”

“Fair assessment.” His Majesty seemed to consider that high praise.

“allowing herself to take in the lines of his body”

Grayson said in that same quiet, steady voice, “I once ended up locked in a cello case for six hours.”

Him.

Grayson bent to block out the rest of the world from her view. “Give me your eyes, sweetheart.”

“A kitten?” she managed.

“A calico, I believe.”

“the kind of voice that reverberated down her spine”

“Lyra wasn’t even aware that she’d reached for Grayson, but suddenly, her fingers were clamped down on his arm”

“Grayson leaned his head toward hers, until their foreheads brushed”

“HERE THERE BE DRAGONS.”

She reached over to pat Knox’s shoulder. “I call that nickname progress.”

“like she’d slowly started turning into a moose, which was actually a pretty common response”

His throat tensing against the words, “is Calla Thorp. Orion is her father.”

“Knox was set on playing the Grandest Game, and he wanted a partner. I guess some part of me wanted us back, so…”

“And knowing that, Knox sold me out to Orion Thorp for a ride.”

“all Gigi could think was that Knox had never denied that Orion Thorp was still his sponsor”

“The detailing work was exquisite. Tiny pearls lined the bottom and accented each knife-sharp point of the crown.”

“The largest of the crowns, it looked like something out of a dark fairy tale, the metal carved in a way that called to mind antlers and thorns.”

He moved his game piece next to Savannah’s. “Your turn, Savvy. My dice or yours?”

“THIS IS NOT YOUR CLUE.”

“Grayson pulled back from her, just enough to turn his head”

“Grayson cocked his head slightly to one side, a tiger sizing up his prey”

“Tell, Mr. Hawthorne.” Odette stared Grayson down. “Have I told a single lie?”

Grayson’s gaze flicked toward Lyra. “No.”

“Never trust a sentence with three ifs,” Grayson told Lyra. “Particularly when spoken by a lawyer.”

“The last thing. Lyra wondered just how much time Odette had left.”

“Grayson ordered. He was obviously trying to protect her, to spare her.”

“Grayson’s pale eyes locked on hers with an odd kind of recognition”

“who’d met gazes across a crowded room only to realize they’d met before.

Like they were the same.”

“It has taken me a lifetime,” Grayson said softly, “to learn how to be weak.”

“Look away from his eyes, Lyra told herself desperately. Look away from him.”

“all she could think about was the poem she’d destroyed, the one he’d pieced back together”

“she did her best to not think about Grayson Hawthorne and mistakes—about weakness and running and living”

“Lyra watched that kiss with Grayson Hawthorne beside her, unable to keep herself from thinking about the kind of mistakes that were worth making”

peeled the long, velvet gloves off her hands. “And also: This one is one of mine.”

“The man I married never made my father a star,” she said, an odd glint in her eyes. “I was another story.”

“Dollhouse was an understatement. Gigi took it all in. The entire spread was eight feet long.”

“In between, the streets were lined with shops—some Victorian, some medieval”

“If you can get them to spit you out, it’s pretty much just a massage.”

“When she grasped the tiny scepter between her forefinger and her thumb and tried to pull, she was met with resistance.

The head of the scepter was a dragon.”

“Tiny, plastic books spilled out onto the dollhouse floor.

Scrawled onto each of them, there was a number.”

“After all,” she continued, her eyes like knives, “society is kindest to women who do what they should.”

“where the game makers’ command center was and what they had been doing to pass the time”

“three objects: a silver hairbrush, a pearl-handled knife, and a glass rose”

“Not poker.” Avery Grambs was the one who replied. “Truth or Dare.”

“The two of you are most welcome to try and risk not getting your hint. Bonne chance.”

“making it clear that he and Avery knew exactly what was at stake”

“Compared to the Proprietorship of the Devil’s Mercy, what was one little game of Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” She reached for the pile of white and gold cards.

“the past had clawed its way to the surface of his mind twice, and that was two times too many”

“That’s the most vivid part of the memory. I’m in the water. I can’t swim. I can’t see anything. And it’s not the first time.”

“I can come up with another dare.”

“I want,” Savannah said, “to win.”

“Rohan.” The way she said his name was like a knife slid between ribs.

Savannah.

Savannah.

Savannah.

“Rohan took the knife in his hand and wondered if she was punishing herself for feeling—or him for making her feel”

Savannah stood, towering over the strands of her hair that littered the floor. “Your turn.”

“And now what he likes or wants or expects no longer matters.”

“You want an explanation, Rohan? Try this one: Money isn’t the only thing you get if you win the Grandest Game.”

“That was the truth of Rohan’s life. The Mercy was his, and he was the Mercy. Without it, he was just a five-year-old boy drowning in dark water.”

“It was all connected. Why she was here. That anger. Her father. What else does the winner of the Grandest Game receive, besides money?”

It shattered into pieces.

“There you are, Savvy,” Rohan murmured. I see you.”

“He tried to destroy me.” Odette smiled that eagle-on-a-hunt, grandma-baking-cookies smile. “It didn’t take.”

“And both of them had connections to Tobias Hawthorne, to that List of his.”

“It makes one wonder, doesn’t it, what else they arranged just so?”

“Jameson Hawthorne’s wicked smile, back on the helipad. Right after his brother heard my voice for the first time.”

“Minutes and hours had lost all meaning. It felt like they had been locked in for days, but soon enough, one way or another, this night would end.”

“Lyra would never have to speak to or look at Grayson Hawthorne again”

Grayson angled his lips downward, toward her ear.

His voice was just barely audible—and only to her.

“pushing down the incredible urge to look at him”

“What drawers?”

Like magic, a section of thick, velvety fabric fell away from the wall.

“The metal bore only one word.

FINALE.”

“Gigi took one of them from him, her fingers brushing his outstretched palm”

“We’re in the library.” Her eyes widened. “Books and books. Little ones, big ones.”

“And so it went, book after book. The moment they decoded the last one.”

“A stained-glass panel on the ceiling swung down like a trapdoor, creating an opening overhead.

And down fell a rope.”

“I don’t get to make you feel like that? Like what, precisely, love?”

“Careful, Rohan. He could still feel the moment the knife had cut.”

“There were pieces made of marble and glass, crystal and wood; boards that folded and boards that were bejeweled; simple sets and works of art”

“Beneath, there was writing: USE ME.

Rohan lifted the board, sending the pieces scattering.”

“Veritas.” Rohan said it out loud. There was a beep.

“This moment in time, was coming to an end. Soon the two of them would no longer be a team.”

She was a player, too. “I believe it’s time,” Rohan said, locking his eyes on to hers, “that you and I struck a deal.”

“How long did they have until the first haze of soft morning light would appear?”

“Memory was a physical thing. Back arching. His fingers, my thighs.”

Grayson said behind her. “Every time you move, you dance.”

“I do not.” Arguing with him was the easiest thing in the world.

Grayson’s voice was deeper now. “You never stopped dancing.”

“with Grayson Hawthorne saying things like that?”

“Yes, well, doubt has never been my strong suit.” Grayson’s gaze cheated toward Lyra’s.

“keenly aware of the way she moved and the way he watched her”

“A person could have written a book about all the ways that Grayson Hawthorne could almost-but-not-quite smile”

“Grayson actually smiled then, and Lyra wished that he hadn’t. She really, really wished that he hadn’t.”

“Unable to keep her eyes from going to Grayson’s hands.

His fingers were long and dexterous. The skin of his hands was smooth, the muscles leading to his wrists defined.”

“She thought at first, just from his tone, that Grayson had seen something”

Looking up at her like he might never look away. “And last year, when I told you to stop calling—I didn’t mean it.”

Knox said, putting on the sunglasses.

“The rhinestones really bring out your eyes,” Brady deadpanned.

“That sucked the oxygen out of the room. Brady didn’t so much as check Knox’s reaction, but Gigi did. Wounded eyebrows.”

“She’s not missing. She didn’t meet with foul play. And I know that, because the night before Calla left, she came to me to say good-bye.”

“Knox pulled his collar roughly down, baring the skin at the base of his neck—and a white, puckered, triangular scar”

“An alliance where the end goal is betrayal.”

“He could see Savannah from every side. Angles. Curves. Power.”

“shining, silver thread. SURRENDER.”

“Half brother.” And there it was.

“I’m…” She almost said fine, but that word felt loaded now.

[justjessame]

Avery Emerson Clay: Like A Brick Shithouse...

When I say I tackled Jake, let me advise other people to NOT tackle Jake Jensen or anyone built like Jake Jensen, my brother or any of his team. They’re built like literal brick shithouses and you will get bruises. Unless, as I was hoping and I wasn’t proven wrong, the shithouse you launch yourself at catches you.

Thank God Jake had the reflexes of one of my younger cats. Praise, Jesus, Amen.

“Avery,” he managed to get out, right before my fingers slid around his head and pulled us so our faces were aligned.

“Enough talking, Jake,” I muttered, nudging his nose with mine. “Sorry for your glasses,” I felt like it had to be said, and then I finally got my lips where I wanted them, as his arms cradled my body, my legs wrapped around his waist and he stopped trying to argue with me. A lost cause he’d soon learn to give up on. Hops, since he hadn’t said no to a few beers with the boys, and some of the decadent icing from Rose’s cake lingered on his mouth and I took my time tasting both, before I found what I was after - Jake’s flavor. A moan met me when his mouth finally opened under mine, our tongues touched and I counted myself lucky that he was holding me, because I would have fell over if I was in control of keeping us upright.

My back touched the softness of my bed and I smiled into the kiss that he’d finally become an active participant in, and I was more than happy to feel his arms still locked around me. The only thing that was ruining the feeling of warmth and the rush of lust that was running through me was the metal smacking into the bridge of my nose.

Nipping at his lip, I pulled back. “Jake,” I gasped, even as he dipped back in, causing the rim of his glasses to slip further off and the frame to smack into my eye. “Ouch.”

“Damn,” he pulled back a little more and I tightened my legs around his waist so he couldn’t go far. “Sorry bout that,” he pulled his glasses off and put them on my bedside table as I squinted up at him through one eye. “Let me kiss it better,” and then he lowered his head and did, gently kissing my nose, the bridge of my nose, my eyelid, and then once again my lips. Damn, who knew Jake had game once you got him locked and loaded?

My hands were sliding down his broad back, searching for the hem of his t-shirt when we heard it. A quiet knock followed by a soft throat clearing. FUCK. A sigh from him and a groan from me, and I looked to the side and considered picking up something heavy and tossing it at the doorway.

“Junior,” I growled, glaring at my enormous, cockblocking brother. “Aren’t you on the WRONG side of the house?”

“Thought I’d make sure you got to bed alright,” he was staring at my face, ignoring Jake, or trying to though I had to think it was difficult with him basically covering me and with my legs wrapped around him and holding him down to me. “After all, you were walking around half naked and pissed.”

“I’m MUCH better now,” I raised an eyebrow and waited. “Night, Clay.” Go away, get out, go screw your long legged distraction. Begone.

“Yeah, Jensen, don’t forget you have shit to deal with tomorrow.” Emphasis on SHIT, I thought. Fuck. His eyes landed on Jake’s and I hoped that without his glasses Jake might be so miopic that he couldn’t feel the awkwardness returning to his body in full force, but I could feel it rush through him even as he hovered over me. Well damn it. “Good night, Ave,” his dimples were peeking out and it took everything in my entire body to not push Jake off just so I could pick up something heavy to toss at my brother’s huge obnoxious fucking head as he turned to leave. I truly hoped that his gal pal got the worst case of period cramps ever and didn’t want so much as a fingertip near her for the foreseeable future. Dick.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Jake sighed, staring down at me, but shocking me, he didn’t seem nearly as in a hurry to rush off as I’d expected. His arms were framing my head and he was brushing my cheeks with his thumbs. “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to leave you alone in here, Avery.”

“Don’t,” I bit my lip and he grinned down at me. “We don’t HAVE to keep going, even if I REALLY want to.” His chuckle vibrated the bed. “We could just sleep. You could hold me.” Suddenly I really wanted that, for Jake to cuddle me while we slept. “If you want to, I mean.” Shit, that sounded so needy.

His eyes were studying me, like he was trying to read some complicated code and get the secret out of it. With a small nod, he kissed my nose and pulled away. “Alright, sleep it is.” I unwrapped my legs and giggled while he shimmied out of his pants and kicked off his shoes in a heap of socks, shoes, pants next to my bed. “What?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head, pulling down the blankets to get my bed ready for company. He took the side next to the lamp and table, where his glasses were already waiting, and held open his arm so I could settle in, ear down on his solid chest, his warmth against my cheek. “Thanks for staying, Jake.”

“Thanks for asking me to, Avery,” he whispered, kissing my head. Then he switched off the lamp and we settled in for the night.

I wish I could say that with the amount of lust and sexual tension that we’d started with, sleep was hard to come by, but honestly we both went out faster than I think either of us expected. When we woke up, within seconds of one another, I think we were more shocked by how easily we fell asleep than we were by anything else. I mean, start with a tackling kiss and end with a snore? That’s a weird case for anyone, especially a Clay.

Speaking of Clays, Jake was trying to convince me that what Junior did wasn’t that big of a deal as I was contemplating just how to get my wonderful brother back for his constant interference.

“He’s my commanding officer, Avery,” Jake was reminding me, once he’d gotten ready for the day and I was getting us breakfast. “He just wants to make sure that my eye is on the prize, that my mind is where it should be.”

“Uh huh,” I agreed, wondering if there was a site that would do the math for me on the voltage problem I’d contemplated. I mean I didn’t want to NEVER be an auntie, I just wanted Clay to NOT have sex for the foreseeable future without wanting to piss his pants. “How much do you know about tasers?”

His eyes went wide and he got quiet and suddenly found his cereal very interesting. Strange, he had a sister. Didn’t they ever prank one another?

Rose woke up a few minutes after I finished up my breakfast and was washing out the bowls. Kissing my temple she told me she planned on cleaning up the party mess and then she’d head home. Today was her normal day off, but since she’d insisted on a party, she felt obligated to clean up. I brushed that off. “I took care of it.” I showed her the dishes that were already run through the dishwasher and ready to be put away, which I’d do after Jake finished his breakfast. “I have the linens in the washer, I know how to iron and fold, you taught me.” She sighed and shook her head, but knew that I’d argue and she wouldn’t win. “Go home, Rose. It’s your day off, for fuck’s sake.”

“You spoil me,” she admonished. “I’m supposed to take care of you, but here you are -”

“Hush,” I brushed her off. “You’ve been taking care of all of us forever, dishes and tablecloths are hardly a big deal after you spent years wiping Clay’s ass.”

She was shaking her head and laughing with a travel mug of coffee as she left, and Jake was grinning at me. “What?” I asked, shrugging. “I was serious. She takes care of this entire house. And cooks meals that I’ll never be able to master,” I shook my head. “Loading a dishwasher and a washing machine or dryer isn’t rocket science.”

“You’re not what people would expect,” he offered, bringing his dish over to put in the washer, then wrapping his arms around my waist to stare down at me. “The more I learn, the more I like.”

“Good,” I grinned up at him, “it’s all part of my master plan to keep you.” I winked and smiled as he kissed me.

The throat clearing made me want to scream, but instead I deepened the kiss, making Jake chuckle. Damn it, he was learning my tricks already. Nipping my bottom lip he pulled back with a wink. “Hey, Clay,” his eyes were on mine and I swear he winked. “I’m heading to my ‘office’ right now.”

I bit my lip to keep from cracking up, I’d hate to ruin Jake’s joke. He booped my nose and headed out of the kitchen while I wiped down the counters and worked to get my urge to smack Junior under control. I wonder if there was some non-lethal add-in that I could slip whatsername to make her have month’s long menstrual cramps? I wasn’t above fucking with his sex life, not with him cockblocking me, even when I wasn’t in the zone to get cocked.

“Ave,” exasperated again? Why? He keeps coming between me and MINE.

“Junior,” I replied, moving to the breakfast nook and carefully cleaning the surface of invisible crumbs. Then back to the stack of party dishes to put everything away, which I found Clay ready and irritatingly willing to help me do. Shit. “Those go in the hutch,” divide and conquer was my plan, that way he could go fuck off on his own, and I could not break half of Mom’s shit over his enormous head.

Clay nodded and took the plates to the dining room while I started putting the glassware away in the kitchen cabinet. Of course with his freakishly long legs and arms, he was finished in record time. “The platters are up on their holders,” he told me, grabbing the basket I’d taken down to unload the dryer. “I'm guessing you washed the linen?” I nodded and he moved to the laundry room. He was back with the basket full of the napkins and tablecloths. “We ironing these before they go packed away in the hutch?”

“Do you want your fingers ironed when Mom pulls one out and they’re wrinkled?” I returned, his smirk greeted my question and he went back to the laundry room for the ironing board and iron. Great, guess we’re bonding over domestic chores.

“I can do it and you can go do what it is you and your team needs to have all hands on deck for,” subtle, Avery, subtle.

“My team has their job assignments,” he grunted, plugging in the iron and fighting with the board. “I’m here to help you, sis.”

“Do you really want to be here, with me, and a HOT iron, Junior?” I moved to the board and pulled a tablecloth free from the basket, flicking it until it was free of any catches and started to smooth out the wrinkles with the heated iron. Clay snorted at my threat.

“I have a shit ton of scars, Ave, and not a single one from you.” An oversight, I was going to say, but shook my head. As much as I was pissed and irritated by his annoying ass, he was right, I wouldn’t scar his stupid ass. “Jensen?!” He sounded surprised and I looked up and realized he was. “I mean, he’s -” he was staring off into space like he was trying to puzzle out just what and who Jake was. “He’s Jensen.” He shook his head.

I giggled and bit my lip. “He’s Jake, Clay.” I worked the iron over the linen, thinking about how to explain the unexplainable to an overprotective brother. “He's this big awkward dork, but he’s sweet and playful.” I could still see the goat on his chest and him laughing and wet. “He talks to Lolly, who can’t see or HEAR him, but he still talks to her.” And sits on the floor and pets her while he does it. “And I don’t know, Clay, he just makes me feel as awkward as he does.” And needy, I thought of asking him to stay, just to sleep with me the night before.

Clay exhaled long and heavy. “And you like him.” It wasn’t a question, it was more like he was convincing himself. “Fine.” I looked up from my ironing. “Fine, you like him and he likes you.” I shook my head at how much he sounded like a recording for an elementary school Valentine. “I won’t stand in your way.”

“Wow,” I offered, not stopping my task at hand. “How grown up of you, Franklin Junior.” I rolled my eyes. “You do know that I could give a huge gory rancid shit about what you would and wouldn’t allow, right?” He snorted again and I shook my head. “Thank you, oh wondrous big brother. Thank you for this bounty. However will I show my gratitude. Shall I name our firstborn after you?” I grimaced. “Yeah don’t hold your breath on that one, Junior, two Franklin Clays is more than enough in this fucking lifetime.”

[elfnerdherder]

Magnum Opus: Chapter 9

You can read on Ao3 Here

Chapter 9:

           Abigail wasn’t at school the next day, but Marissa assured him without looking up from her textbook that she and her father often took the train about to go and see potential universities. When Will went to thank her, her head ducked farther, although she peeked up at him when he sighed and looked away. It seemed that that bridge would take farther to cross, and that was perfectly fine with him.

           He used the library during study hall to apply to a few more jobs, tabs opened to as many as the school would allow. Some job links were blocked by the school codes, but he didn’t let that stop him. There were plenty that he could apply to, and it was only when he heard the hushed, secretive sounds of whispering that he even looked up from his work. He caught the eye of two poorly hidden students watching him, and he grimaced.

           “I’m pretty sure that’s him.”

           “Why don’t you go and ask him?”

           “Dumb ass, you don’t just go up and ask if it’s true his friend murdered someone!”

           “Ten bucks if you go and ask-”

           “You go and ask!”

           What had they called the newspaper? Tattle Crime? It wasn’t blocked by the school, and he clicked the link to the page, surprised when the photo of a murdered girl popped into view. He choked on his tongue and looked around, checking to make sure that someone wouldn’t pop up behind him to scold him. He scrolled past the photo and read the article, something about a girl disappearing the week before, then found back in her bed within a few days, dead. Antler velvet had been placed in wounds that looked like she’d been mounted somewhere. The words were colorful, the imagery grim, and he gave a start when he saw the name at the bottom. Freddie Lounds. The girl that chased him towards his truck at the funeral flashed into view, and he scowled. That’s who’d written about him?

           The next page held another article, though this one centered on a man that dressed as a clown to stalk people at night. After that, there was an interview with a man that claimed dissociative identity disorder who’d murdered ten families, then Will was startled when he stumbled upon a photo of himself at a rather familiar graveside.

           “What…?” he murmured, mouse hovering over the photo. He stood beside Jared Freeman’s father, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn that he looked to be grieving. Did he truly look so haggard? Did his eyes really give the impression of a whipped dog? Will scratched the sparse stubble on his cheek, the sad attempts of an eighteen-year-old’s scruff, and he grunted. The suit didn’t look as dingy in the picture as it did in real life, and he was grateful.

           “I attempted to reach out to Jared Freeman’s close friend, Will Graham, but he wasn’t inclined to speak on the matter. He fended me off, tears in his eyes, and he begged that I just let the situation go.

           “Can’t you just let him rest in peace?” Will Graham asked.

           “We deserve to know the truth of the matter,” I said to him. “And we want to know if you knew anything about his attack on your teacher before he ever attacked her.”

           He refused to answer, and we’re left to wonder if there was any way that this could have been prevented. Was Will Graham aware of his friend’s motives before the shooting? Did no one notice the signs that led a seventeen-year-old boy to commit a heinous act of murder-homicide before the eyes of special needs students? The FBI agents that were at the scene of the crime refused to comment as well, but as we know they’re inclined to pretend that all is well when it’s, in fact, not. I intend to get to the bottom of this, readers, and see what can be done to prevent further horrific acts against good, innocent people.”

           Will read the portion mentioning him once, then twice. He stared at the part where it claimed that he’d had tears in his eyes, and he savagely exited from the browser, logging off of the computer, pulse pounding. He’d had a gut instinct to not talk to Freddie Lounds, and he’d been right. The gall –the absolute nerve! Without acknowledging the librarian who called out to him, he stormed from the school and hopped into his truck, driving home while he drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, trying to expel the fury that churned inside. Rain spat along his windowshield, and he jammed a napkin into the leak at the very bottom that sometimes let in water.

           His father wasn’t home –it was early, even by Will’s standards. He took the map he’d gotten from the Wolf Trap Art Center and took to the forest, needing to get rid of the energy building, his lungs hot and his muscles begging release. Will tore through the forest, leaping over fallen trees and slipping under low-hanging branches, delving farther and farther into the mess until he lost track of time, until time ceased to be anything more than an idea, and a faint one at that.

           He wasn’t sure when it felt right to stop –at some point, his body had had enough. Will leaned over, hands on his knees as he focused on inhaling deeply, holding, and exhaling, his face hot and his hair matted to his forehead. It felt nice, though. When he got his breath back, he stretched and looked around, the faint sound of rain above a gentle reminder of the elements outside of the canopy of hardwoods surrounding him. Within the woods, everything was muffled, a soft place to fall if one had the misfortune of stumbling.

           He found a stump and sat down on it, stretching his legs out and rubbing his calves that twitched occasionally from the exercise. By his guess, he was a few miles into the forest, out of touch of anything that could reach its greedy, grasping fingers to hurt him. Freddie Lounds didn’t exist in the forest. Jared Freeman didn’t exist in the forest. Miss Avery didn’t exist in the forest. Jack Crawford didn’t exist in the forest. He wiped sweat from his forehead and leaned against the trunk of the tree behind him, smiling savagely. Release felt nice. It was the closest to peace he’d felt since Jared Freeman had first walked into their classroom and revealed the gun he’d tucked into his jacket.

           Vines, moss, and dead leaves spread like a thick, welcoming blanket over the forest floor, and Will slid his shoe over it, wondering when blisters would begin to rub. Dockers weren’t the sort of shoes to run in, but they were all that he had. Maybe when he got a job he’d get proper hiking boots? Sometimes you could find those things at Good Will or Ross, if such a place existed in or around Wolf Trap. He nudged a stick, then kicked it, watching it turn end over end before it paused to lay still beside a hand.

           A hand.

           Will froze; his breath hitched, and he stared, sitting rod-straight on the stump as his eyes grabbed and held onto every detail, every curve. A series of tubes connected and led up towards the trees, but the hand appeared to have sprouted from the ground, at home among the foliage and small plants.

           “That’s not real,” he said, and he blinked pointedly, trying to dispel the image. He’d just looked at dead bodies, and Hannibal had shown him photos of dead bodies in the forest; it was the only reason he was seeing what he saw. It was no more real, no more tangible than Miss Avery in the park or Jared Freeman in his truck. He blinked again, but still it sat, fingers curled lazily, as though it couldn’t be bothered to make a fist to fight, to escape. Scattered along the ground around it, mushrooms sprouted into the shape of a lopsided rectangle, reaching. Grasping. Searching.

           That time, his running was out of fear.

-

           His father got home while Will sat on the edge of an ambulance, a blanket for shock wrapped tightly around him. Although Will tried to explain that it was unnecessary to have one, the paramedic asked Will to humor him, so he did. A light drizzle fell, a steady and wet sludge that added to the bleak atmosphere that clouded his thoughts and left everything smudged. His father pushed through the crowd of police, and he stopped before Will, smelling of beer, cigarettes, and wet dog.

           “What the hell happened?” he demanded.

           “It’s fine, dad, I-”

           “What did you do?” he snapped.

           “I didn’t do anything, I just-”

           “We just get to this town and I get home to find you surrounded by cops and an ambulance? I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without some shit hitting the fan?”

           “Sir, everything’s alright, and your son is unharmed. Do you want to take a walk with me?” An officer stepped over and glanced from Will to Bill, his question not exactly a question. Bill Graham jabbed a finger at Will, as if to say, ‘we’re not done,’ before he followed the officer, adjusting the ball cap he’d won in a poker game.

           “Will?” Will looked away from his father that paced before an officer, and dread filled his gut at the sight of Jack Crawford working his way through the crowd. The sun was just beginning to set over the trees in the distance, and a mantle of devilish orange and red sat on the agent’s shoulders.

           “Good evening, Agent Crawford,” Will said.

           “Why do I have a call from the police saying you found human remains in the woods back there?” he asked.

           “Because I found human remains in the woods back there,” Will said. His tongue tasted the dirt the hand had casually lounged in, and he gagged.

           “Why were you the one to find it?” he asked.

           “Because I went on a hike and that’s where it was,” Will said. He looked down to his shoes caked in mud, and he kicked a large chunk off on the bottom of the ambulance. When the paramedic turned the corner, he tossed the blanket off, stretching his aching muscles as he stood up.

           “You went on a five mile hike and found a hand?” Jack asked skeptically.

           “I didn’t know that I was five miles in,” Will said. Jack eyed him, and he sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as if to prevent him from strangling Will.

           “What did you see?” he asked. Will nodded, a small weight lifting from him. He could do answers and questions, a mechanical repetition. Something like that was easy to manage.

           “I saw a hand sticking up from the ground, and I saw a series of tubes attached to it,” he said. “Growing over the place where I think the rest of the body is, fungi was everywhere.” He studied Jack’s face as he spoke, watching as the grave, angular expression shifted to recognition. Ah, so he knew of the study Hannibal had shown Will.

           “Was there only one?” Jack asked.

           “I only saw one, but I showed the police where it was, so they’d know better than I do.” He bit his lip, considering the ground beneath his worn feet. Should he tell Jack that he knew about the other case? Was there a correlation, or was this something new, something different? How had Hannibal gotten his hands on a current investigation? Why hadn’t he told Will that the man wasn’t caught?

           “Why you?” Jack murmured, but Will knew that it was a rhetorical question. Why indeed? It seemed the coincidences of coincidences, to move away from a murder just to stumble into a new one. Will wondered if he was cursed.

           “If…I can say, Agent Crawford,” Will began. Every inch of his brain screamed for him to stop, to resist speaking, but the sight of the hand in his mind’s eye drew the words from him, a siren’s song. “This is the same as the others, right?”

           “And how would you know about the others?” Crawford demanded. At that, Will floundered, gritting his teeth. How indeed?

           “Tattlecrime,” he said, and Jack cursed, not bothering to care that he was in the presence of a high schooler.

           “That god damn Freddie Lounds,” he snarled, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Will nodded, relieved. As Hannibal said, the lie had to be a good one if you were going to tell it.

           “Do you think it’s the same?” Will asked.

           “From what I was told, yes,” Jack said reluctantly. “But that’s not important for you. You did a service, calling it in, but that’s as far as you go, kid.”

           “He’s looking for connection,” Will said, and Jack paused. The words fell from him, heavy and dark with implications, but he didn’t let that stop him. He thought of Jared Freeman, standing at the edge of the grave, nothing but the depths of the earth connecting him to Miss Avery. “He’s…he’s searching for that. Fungus, they have…mycelium, and when you enter the area they’re in, they know you are there. He grows it on them, and that’s how he can connect us all.”

           Jack Crawford stared down at Will, and Will felt naked. The man’s dark, probing eyes stripped everything that was him down to his core, and Will was back in the counselor’s office, explaining Jared Freeman’s love to room full of skeptics. He inhaled, held it, and exhaled shakily.

           “Did you see that the same way you saw Jared Freeman’s love for Miss Avery?” Jack asked.

           “Yes,” Will replied. He looked to the side where his father was speaking heatedly with the officer, and he nodded firmly. “He reaches out, and he wants the world to reach back.”

           “I see,” Jack said slowly, and he frowned.

           “If he’s inducing diabetic comas, he’d be a doctor, I think. He’d have to have that know-how,” Will said.

           “That’s what we supposed,” Jack said. He sighed, the sigh of a person that’d witnessed too much for his time, and he looked towards the herd of people milling about. “That’s not something for you to worry about, though.”

           “That’s because I don’t have diabetes,” Will muttered darkly.

           “I appreciate your input, Will. The FBI will handle it from here, but for you…” He shook his head, at a loss. “What can I do for you?”

           “Do you have an aspirin?” Will asked. Jack disappeared around the ambulance, and he returned with an aspirin and a bottle of water. Will took it, reaching up to rub the ache that started above his ear and curled over, diving into his other ear. “Thank you.”

           “Stick to your house, alright? Try and stay out of trouble. Tell your dad to stick around this time so that I can find you if we have any questions or concerns.”

           “I can do that,” Will said. Jack lifted a hand and clapped it on his shoulder, squeezing it. The contact surprised Will, as though Jack was trying to convey something to him that transcended words. He gripped his shoulder, held it tight before he turned and headed into the mass of government officials, taking control with a loud, engaging voice. Will felt the heavy, stifling presence of his father behind him, and he turned around warily.

           “Officer said you stumbled on a body in the woods,” Bill said, frowning.

           “It was an accident,” Will replied, as though finding a body in the woods was something someone could purposefully do.

           “They said they’re going to search the area, but they’ve got it taken care of. Said you’d handled yourself like a full grown adult.” His father lifted the hat off of his head and scratched it, stuffing the hat into his back pocket.

           “Thanks,” Will said. Bill Graham didn’t reach out to squeeze his shoulder, but he didn’t reach out to smack him in the back of the head, either. They stood like that, surrounded by flashing police lights, the murmuring of too many voices, and the footsteps of the harried before Will excused himself and headed down the driveway to the house, locking himself in his bedroom for the rest of the night. After a short while, he heard the door to the front room open and close and knew his father was going to do the same.

           I stand before Miss Avery, palm pressed to gentle palm. She makes no move to fight me; she makes no move to run. She inhales, and I can sense it, just as easily as I sense the blood pulsing through her veins, just as easily as I can all but feel her lungs expand.

           “I reach out to you, and now you reach back,” I say.

           “Whenever you enter this place we have found, I feel you near,” she says, and I sigh. It is the softest sound, the quietest of feelings. It is one thing to reach, extend, and grasp. It is another for someone to finally reach back, to see as one is intended to be seen. As one we lay down together, side by side, our breaths intertwining until there is nothing that separates the you from the me. This is beautiful. This is peace. This is my design.

           Will woke, and he wiped tears from his cheeks, his breath hiccupping in quiet, desperate gulps. It was a silent grief, something that swept away all chance of sound to escape as it stifled his voice and gripped his throat. He curled up on his side, blanket pulled close, and he wondered if Jack was going to be able to find such a person whose desperation to connect was so dire it was like trying to hold onto sand. No matter how tight his fist, it would inevitably escape through the cracks.

           Mostly, he wondered if one day he’d be the one burying someone in the ground. He wondered who would be the one to find it if he did.

-

           The weekend dragged itself to Monday, a hangman’s noose wrapped around its neck. When Will went to go and apply for jobs on Saturday, his father refused with a stern shake of his head. Instead, he found himself sitting on the couch, watching the football game with Bill Graham whose enthusiasm for UGA hadn’t changed despite changing states. He didn’t have much fight to give, in truth –not with his leg muscles complaining the way that they were. Ten miles was a long run for anyone, even someone in peak physical condition. Although Will was no weakling, peak physical condition didn’t quite fit into his description. He’d stood in the shower for quite some time, allowing the hot water to sooth the blisters that’d rubbed into his ankle and the sides of his feet.

           Sunday, his father disappeared to spend a day with his new co-workers, leaving Will to his own devices. He considered going to apply for jobs, but when he saw Jared Freeman in the kitchen, staring down at a Hungry Man meal, he quickly forwent the idea. Instead, he found himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, wondering just how long his father’s concern lasted. Had it been long enough for him to realize they didn’t have much to talk about? Had it been long enough for him to determine that he couldn’t do anything about his odd, troubled son? He wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. He rubbed his aching feet and let the clicks of his eyelids count the seconds until darkness fell.

           Monday came, and he escaped to school, relieved to have something to divert him. He met with Beverly near the front entrance, who was accompanied by two younger siblings whose hair and eyes gave them away as such.

           “Did you hear about those bodies?” Beverly asked by way of greeting.

           “No,” Will lied.

           “They found five bodies out in the woods!” one boy said.

           “They were so gross and decomposing that things were growing up over them,” the girl added, nodding. “Things like fungi and mushrooms and lichen.”

           “These are my siblings, if you can’t tell. Henry and Cassandra.” Beverly pointed to them, then herself. “I’m the oldest, and there’s three more after that, if you can believe it.”

           “That’s a lot of kids,” Will said.

           “They say the more kids there are, the better the character growth,” Cassandra said, grinning.

           “Are you an only child?” Henry asked.

           “Yes,” Will replied slowly.

           “We can tell,” Cassandra said knowingly.

           “Oh, come on,” Beverly rounded on them, and they hurried off, laughing as they headed towards their respective classes. “Jeez, sorry about that.”

           “No, they’re…well, they’re not wrong,” Will said, and his smile felt savage at the edges. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked about the bustling students, out of place and out of time with them. The rain had continued well into the weekend and gave no sign of stopping, switching periodically between heavy downfall and light mist.

           “Well, they’re still jerks. They’re right about the bodies, though. They were in Wolf Trap, deep in the woods, hands sticking up out of the ground like claws.” She walked with him towards his locker, and Will grabbed his books, nodding along.

           “That’s bleak,” he said.

           “Bleak and creepy. Someone joked that whoever did it was just trying to grow a mushroom garden, but those aren’t the kind of mushrooms you’d want to eat.”

           “I’ve never had a mushroom that I liked,” Will said, and Beverly laughed.

           “Then I guess you won’t run the risk of biting into one of these guys, right?” The bell rang, and they headed towards first period, Beverly breaking away once she reached the right hall.

           “Hopefully,” Will agreed.

           He found Abigail at lunch, although it troubled him that he sought her out so persistently. Beverly was nowhere to be seen, so he made his way over without interruption, noting how she sat alone. He sat down in the chair beside her and saw a faint discoloring of purple beneath her eyes from lack of sleep.

           “How was your weekend?” he asked.

           “Oh, it was good…I went to check out a potential university, then my dad and I went hunting.” Her hair was pulled back, up and away from her fair features, and it wasn’t lost on Will how her mouth quivered before pressing shut. She looked like one sharp exhale would blow her away.

           “Did you get anything?”

           “Yeah, we found a doe,” she said with a quiet, short laugh. “Did you go fishing?”

           “Not with all of the rain, no. The river will rise when it’s all done, then I will. That’s the best time to catch them.” They ate in silence, the air dank with unsaid words. It was the sort of silence that chafed, and if Will hadn’t seen what Abigail had wanted to show him, he’d have said he imagined her ever wanting to be his friend. Abigail yawned, Will yawned, and he looked down, studying the inedible-looking pizza.

           “Do you do everything with your dad?” Will asked, hesitant. He flexed and clenched his hands, uncomfortable.

           “What do you mean?” Abigail asked slowly.

           “Hunt together, go look at universities together…you must be really close.” Off to the side, a couple of kids tossed a football, laughter ensuing as they moved towards the center of the eating hall. The ball was quickly confiscated, and the students booed the teacher away.

           “Yeah, I’m pretty close with my dad. Are you?”

           “No, not really,” Will said. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so bluntly honest with her; her expression of surprise showed that he hadn’t answered the way that she expected. He looked away and took a bite of pizza.

           “Are you close with your mom?” Abigail asked.

           “I don’t have a mom to be close to.”

           “My dad sad you seemed interesting. Maybe you’ll get to see what the hype is all about.” It was supposed to sound like a joke, but the punchline came out wrong. Will looked at her, and her voice caught in her throat, stifling the laughter that was supposed to follow. She forced a breath and grabbed her water bottle, distracting herself by taking a drink.

           “Maybe,” Will said. They ate in silence for the rest of lunch, only the sound of rain tapping gently on the skylight above them to punctuate the thoughts in their heads. When the bell rang, he left her to her own devices, wondering just what had happened over the weekend to make her so afraid again.