Page 196 of Crucible
Well, that makes one of us.
It makes me wonder how long he’s been suffering the nosebleeds alone and watching the clock winding down if he’s able to recover so quickly.
On top of that, Thorin and Khalil have noticed that I’ve been withdrawn. At first, they were simply confused and then extra attentive, but after that didn’t work, and I continued to insist that everything was fine, they became frustrated with me.
I mean more than usual.
The four of us are sitting out on the upper deck enjoying the warm spring afternoon. At first, it was just me, but apparently, the three of them have entered the clingy stage of this new, weird space we’re in because everywhere I go, they follow.
I mean more than usual.
“Seth,” I say as I run my fingers through his lengthy, black hair. His head is in my lap as he lies between my legs on the lounger while I read him one of his favorite stories.
He jerks awake and stretches like a jungle cat before yawning and speaking in a groggy voice, “Yeah?”
“I think it’s time for a haircut. You’ve gone from dashing debonair to surfer duuuude.”
I’m smiling at my own joke until Seth stiffens, and my smile falls. I swear I see Khalil and Thorin still as well. Seth sits up, and there’s no mistaking the panicked look in his eyes.
“Uhh…” I look to Khalil and Thorin for help, but Khalil is making the sign of the cross, and Thorin looks ready to toss himself over the railing. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Seth doesn’t like haircuts,” Khalil tells me.
“We only cut it when Zeke is awake,” Thorin adds.
“Oh.” Closing the book and swinging my legs over the side of the lounger, I stand and shrug. “Well, in that case, never mind. I’m sure I’ll learn to love this look too.”
And let’s be honest. My panties are dropping for Seth either way.
I thrust my fingers into his hair one last time, letting the long, silky strands slip through my fingers, and then I leave them on the deck to go back inside the house, sliding the glass door closed behind me.
It’s laundry day, so I go from room to room, collecting the dirty clothes and towels strung all over the place since—let’s face it—I’m a terrible maid. I then carry it all downstairs to the basement to get started.
I’m halfway through the first load while singing the final chorus from my favorite track on my first album when I hear shouting and something crashing. Dropping Seth’s wet shirt back inside the sink, I rush upstairs and find myself in the middle of absolute pandemonium.
The kitchen table has been shoved into the side door.
One of the chairs is overturned.
There’s a dent in one of the few walls that have drywall.
The antler chandelier above the kitchen table is rocking back and forth.
And there is blood…everywhere.
Khalil is slumped on the floor and leaning against the wall with a dent in it. Thorin is bent over and panting hard with one hand resting on the back of the couch and the other holding his bleeding side. I follow his murderous glare to Seth, who is sitting on the floor by the table with his forearms resting on his knees and small scissors dripping blood clutched in his hand.
“What the hell happened in here?” I scream.
Thorin’s gaze flicks to me and then back to Seth. “He cut me.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Because I tried to cut his hair for him.”
“Why would you do that? I thought you said Seth hated haircuts,” I immediately scold.
This time Thorin aims that daggerish glare at me. “If you want to blame someone, blame yourself. He wanted to please you and wouldn’t shut up about it until one of us agreed to cut his hair, andIgot stabbed for it.”
