There was black-and-white checkered tile in Grady’s kitchen. It was cute. Her cabinets were dark wood and she had a purple fridge. To the right of the back door was a little table with two chairs. I noticed witchy decor sprinkled through the entire house, but the refrigerator magnet depicting a cartoonish witch riding a broomstick was my favorite piece.
Grady had suggested we go back inside. It was just past 8:30, the sun had settled below the horizon some time ago, and the only light illuminating the deck came from the panes of glass in the back door.
And so, the three of us went back inside the house. Cujo followed, with a huff. I expected Reid to put his hand on the small of my back or to at least walk near me, as I was beginning to become accustomed to, but he didn’t. If I didn’t kno
