Unhidden

JANELLE

The sound of crashing from the front room sent my feet flying down the stairs.

“Easy, Jeff!”

I peeked around the arch into the kitchen. Daddy wasn’t alone. He stood with his handgun raised, its barrel trained on the blonde man across the room. The man’s hands were high in surrender, his calmness unsettling in the tense moment.

“Oliver?” Daddy’s voice wavered slightly, his brows furrowed in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to warn you,” Oliver said, dropping his hands to his sides. “But I doubt you want an audience for this conversation.” His gaze drifted toward the archway where I hid.

Our eyes locked, and a chill ran down my spine.

I gasped, snapping back to reality. The dim hum of the car engine grounded me as I scanned the backseat of my mother’s car, letting out a slow breath of relief. Just a flashback.

The drive to Port Angeles felt like it took hours. Memories of the last time I’d been here played on a loop in my mind. Staring out the window, I let my MP4 player blare music into my ears while I sketched, the rhythmic motion of the pencil soothing me. Drawing helped pass the time, much like it had during the two-hour flight from Las Vegas to Seattle.

Leaving the arid heat of Nevada for Washington’s cool embrace felt like stepping into a new chapter—one I desperately needed. Cooler weather, a fresh start, and the chance to see my older brother, Andre. But one thing I wasn’t looking forward to? High school.

Fitting into high school was every teenager’s nightmare—right up there with dreams of showing up to class naked. At seventeen, a senior, and with just seven months until I turned eighteen, I felt the weight of starting over. It was early October 2015. Though the year was nearly over, the first semester of senior year had barely begun.

As Plumb’s “Smoke” played through my earbuds, we finally pulled into Port Angeles. The chilly air greeted me as the black Chevrolet came to a stop in front of our new house. It was modest, with a dark roof and white-painted walls. The porch steps led up to a wide wooden front door. Next door, a towering, triple-story house loomed, its modern design and large windows giving it an almost foreboding presence.

I stepped out of the car, watching Spencer carry two boxes toward the porch. My mother, Chantelle, rummaged in the trunk. Sighing, I grabbed my side bag and laptop case, trailing after Spencer into the house.

The interior was cozier than I’d expected, with a vintage wooden staircase leading to the second floor. To the right was the living room, furnished with gray couches, and to the left, the dining room. Beyond the stairs lay a spacious kitchen, the largest room in the house. It reminded me of our childhood home in some ways.

Spencer set the boxes down in the living room and turned to me. His blue eyes met mine as he gestured toward the stairs. “Your room’s the first door on the right.”

I climbed the staircase, finding my room exactly where he said. The white walls made the space feel open. My violet double bed was positioned against the wall. A wooden desk stood to the right beneath a window, and in the corner near the door, an indoor closet awaited unpacking. A small private bathroom with white tiled walls, a large mirror, and a bathtub beneath a frosted window completed the setup.

After setting my bags on the desk, I glanced out the window at the forest bordering the backyard. My gaze wandered to the enormous house next door. Its windows revealed tastefully furnished but empty rooms. No signs of life.

A knock on my door startled me.

Andre smirked as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his honey-blonde hair catching the light. “I see you’re already settled in,” he teased, his warm brown eyes scanning the room.

“Andre!” I dropped what I was holding and rushed to him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Hey, slow down! You’re gonna break me,” he laughed, hugging me back tightly. “Welcome home, sis.”

“It feels good to be back,” I said, stepping back but keeping a hand on his arm.

He looked me over, his smile softening. “Yeah, it’s been too long. I missed you.”

I grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You act like I’ve been gone forever.”

“Well, you kinda have,” he replied, his tone serious for a moment. “Anyway, I should get going. Work calls, but I promise we’ll catch up soon. Maybe dinner tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

Andre hesitated, glancing at the window. His shoulders tensed. “You sure you want this room? It gets chilly, and the view…”

I followed his gaze to the forest beyond. “I like it. The trees are beautiful.”

“Yeah, just… keep the window locked, okay?” His voice was light, but his jaw tightened as if holding something back.

Before I could ask what was bothering him, he clapped a hand on my shoulder and smiled.

“Mom’s looking for you. Don’t keep her waiting.”

I followed him down the hallway, down the stairs, and out through the front door. My gaze landed on the black Volvo parked behind Chantelle’s Chevrolet.

Chantelle and Spencer stood beside the car, teasing each other with playful words.

Andre glanced over his shoulder, smirking at me as he walked toward them across the lawn.

I trailed a few steps behind, narrowing my eyes at the three of them.

“What’s going on here?” I crossed my arms.

“Well,” Chantelle began, cocking her head. Her hazel gaze met mine. “We thought we’d get you an early Christmas present...”

She glanced at the car over her shoulder.

My eyebrow arched. My jaw dropped. “That’s mine?”

“If you like it,” Spencer grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

“If I like it?” I echoed, laughter bubbling up in my throat. “I love it! Thank you!”

Without thinking, I rushed forward and threw my arms around Chantelle.

Chantelle was only an inch taller than me, but with her three-inch heels, she had a little extra height. Her brown, wavy hair was a shade darker than mine, and, aside from our shared hair color, my mother and I didn’t resemble each other much. Andre and I weren’t much alike, either. Sure, when I was younger, my hair had been as blonde as his, but as I got older, my roots darkened. I was the only one with deep brown eyes. Andre’s were a lighter chocolate, and Chantelle’s were a mix of hazel. Even my father—who wasn’t here—had eyes the same shade of brown as Andre’s, as well as honey-colored hair.

“Oh, you’re welcome, sweetheart.” Chantelle smiled as we parted, kissing my forehead.

“Now, don’t use this as an excuse to go to late-night parties, young lady.” Spencer scoffed.

I rolled my eyes at my stepfather, fighting off a smile. Then, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thank you so much for reading my stories! This is going to be one interesting, thrilling ride for you!!