4. Gray #3
I sit there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, and stare out into the empty lot. Katherine’s face flickers in my mind again, quickly followed by Avery’s.
I exhale sharply, shaking my head, and start the engine.
The quiet hum of the electric motor fills the car as I pull out of the parking space. The afternoon light is beginning to soften as I ease onto Main Street and merge with the sluggish Westhaven traffic.
The town is a mix of quaint storefronts and sleek office buildings, every bit of it drenched in late afternoon shadows. Pedestrians dart across crosswalks like they have a death wish, and someone honks behind me as though that’s going to magically make the cars move faster.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, flipping on my turn signal.
Eventually, the traffic starts to crawl, and I inch forward, my eyes catching the contrast between the old stone library and the modern café across the street.
A kid on a skateboard nearly collides with a cyclist, and for a second, I wonder if there’s some secret competition in this town to see who can cause the worst accident.
After what feels like an eternity, I finally break free from the congestion and turn into Drayton Close. The street is quiet, lined with towering oaks that cast long shadows over pristine lawns.
As I approach my driveway, I can’t help but wonder what chaos is brewing at home.
Passing between the large stone pillars that frame the entrance, I make my way up the driveway. The estate looms ahead, its stately facade bathed in the rustic light of the setting sun.
Pulling past the main house, I grab the remote from the center console and press it. The garage door whirs to life, slowly rolling up to reveal the sleek, organized space within.
I drive in, the car gliding silently to a stop. Turning off the engine, I sit for a moment, staring ahead. The silence feels oddly heavy, like the calm before a storm.
Getting out, I grab the charging cable and plug it into the car, the faint click confirming the connection. Leaving the garage, I walk around to the front of the house, the cool evening air brushing against me as I unlock the door.
Inside, it’s quiet. Suspiciously quiet.
I set my briefcase down by the door, loosen my tie, and pull it off, rolling it up before shoving it into my pocket. Making my way to the kitchen, I catch the faint scent of something cooking.
Clara is at the stove, stirring a pot. She’s making mac and cheese. She turns around when she hears me, looking startled.
“Oh, Mr. Hayes, I didn’t see you there. Good day at work?”
“No,” I answer flatly, brushing past her. “But that’s not important. Where are Maddie and Avery?”
Clara turns back to the stove, adjusting the heat. “Well, Maddie is playing in her room, and Avery is just unpacking her stuff. I told them dinner would be ready in about an hour.”
“So, Maddie is playing by herself?”
Clara shifts uncomfortably, her shoulders tensing. She shrugs without looking at me, clearly not wanting to get involved.
I leave the kitchen without another word, walking through the hallway and climbing the stairs. The silence is deceptive, and I have no idea what to expect as I approach Maddie’s room.
Halfway down the hall, I hear it—chattering, muffled but animated. Stopping in front of her door, I grip the handle and slowly, quietly, push it down.
The door creaks open, and my worst fears are realized.
The room, which I’d just had completely decked out in pink with princess decals all over the walls and stars and planets glowing on the ceiling, is in chaos. Avery is furiously scrubbing green paint off the walls, where mustaches and glasses have been sloppily drawn over the princesses’ faces.
And Maddie? My sweet, innocent little nightmare? She’s crouched behind Avery, gleefully painting the back of her jeans green with a dripping brush.
There’s a painting book open on the bed, completely untouched, as though it exists purely for decoration, and paints and paintbrushes are scattered across the bedspread.
Avery, completely oblivious, continues scrubbing then turns around suddenly, and Maddie nearly goes flying, paintbrush in hand.
“Don’t worry,” Avery says, flustered, a streak of green paint on her cheek. “Everything’s under control.”
I’m speechless.
Yeah… I can see that.
Maddie looks up at me with the widest grin, her face also smeared in green paint, as though this is all a perfectly normal Wednesday.
I take a slow breath, watching as the paint drips down the back of Avery’s jeans onto the carpet and she wipes her brow only to leave another smear of green across her forehead.
Trying not to lose it completely and determined to keep my composure, I speak. The irritation in my voice, well that… I can’t hide. “Get this mess, along with both of you, cleaned up for dinner. And Avery, I think we need to talk once this one’s in bed. Okay?”
Maddie starts giggling uncontrollably, her little face lighting up. Avery glances at her, then at me, and with an exaggerated wink at Maddie, she raises her hand in a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain!”