House at the End of the Street by Lily Blake, David Loucka, Jonathan Mostow Read Free Book Online Page B

but the ceiling was peaked, with a small circular window looking out into thebackyard. A framed photo hung on the wall. His parents had their arms around each other. Carrie Anne stood in front with her teddy bear, and Ryan was off to the side. He looked so serious. He was the only one who wasn’t smiling.
    “So that’s Carrie Anne,” Elissa said, studying the blond girl with brilliant blue eyes. She stood in front, her mother’s hands on her shoulders. “Her eyes are so blue.”
    Ryan leaned in, his shoulder pressing against hers as he studied the picture. “She was the heart of the family. After the accident, things changed. My parents got worse.”
    “What do you mean…worse?” Elissa asked.
    Ryan shook his head, as if he didn’t want to talk about it. “It was just different.”
    “Is that when they sent you away?” Ryan looked up, and his eyes met hers. He didn’t answer the question, and she didn’t want to push. “I know it’s not the same, but everything changed when my father left. It’s like everything was split into before and after. It’s hard, knowing he’s touring, that he’s out there without us. Sometimes I wonder if he even cares about me at all.”
    “He must, right?” Ryan said. “He has to.”
    Elissa stared straight ahead. She hadn’t heard from him in over a year. She would sometimes follow his band online, keeping track of their tour stops. When she was packing up the apartment in Chicago, helping Sarah put the kitchen supplies in boxes, she thought:
Berlin. My father is in Berlin.
As the days passed she thought,
Munich, Amsterdam.
Allthe while she wondered if he ever thought of her, or if he’d been content to keep that part of his life separate, never mentioning the daughter he’d left behind.
    Elissa blinked, for a minute not registering what she was seeing. The swing set was still out back, the rusted slide sitting at a strange angle. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I guess a divorce is nothing compared to what you’ve been through. It’s just…I haven’t talked to anyone about this before.”
    Ryan smiled, resting his hand on her back. “I’m glad you told me,” he said. She thought he was going to say more, but instead he stood, heading downstairs. She followed, feeling like that might be her cue to go. She felt foolish for saying it, even if Ryan had assured her it was all right. It was strange though, how he’d stood so suddenly. Why had he done that? It was as if some internal alarm had gone off, and he’d realized he’d had an appointment somewhere else.
    Downstairs, the house was dark. Ryan went into the kitchen, fiddling with a few of the groceries on the counter as if she weren’t there. She suddenly felt so self-conscious, not sure whether she should stay or go. She grabbed her sweatshirt from the sofa and pointed to the stereo. “Enjoy the CD,” she said, taking a few tentative steps toward the door. Ryan barely turned to say good-bye. “See you tomorrow.”

W hen she finally left, Ryan went to the door. He hovered there, waiting on the porch, watching as she took off across the lawn. “See you tomorrow,” he called after her. She turned back, and he waved, his face feeling stiff and awkward. He’d never been good at pretending.
    He glanced at the clock on the wall. As soon as she was inside her house, he moved quickly, pulling a can of minestrone soup from the counter and popping it open. He dumped its contents in a bowl and slid it in the microwave, watching it spin several times before it was done heating. He tested it with his finger, making sure it wasn’t too hot. Then he assembled it on a tray with a few cookies. She would like this, he knew she would. Chocolate chip were always her favorite.
    He went to the edge of the kitchen, opening the basement door. He started down the long flight, keeping careful balance of the tray, not wanting to spill even a drop. When he got downstairs, he kicked back a wide throw rug, revealing a