Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3) by Gemma Halliday (best e reader for manga txt) 📗

extra slowly, not wanting to go back out to the living room again. Chase was on his own. Sorry buddy.

But as I rescrubbed a fork for the third time, Mom came over and took the sponge from me.

"Go sit with them. I got this," she said.

"You sure?" I asked, gripping the fork for dear life.

"Very. Go on. Take a break."

If only.

I dried my hands and walked into the living room.

Chase and Raley were seated in the same spots as earlier, so I slid into the room and resumed the corner of the sofa. Neither of them glanced my way. They were either really interested in a Tide commercial or were trying to not make the first move in eliciting small talk.

Mom joined us a moment later and sat on the arm of Raley's chair. He looked up at her, and they shared a smile before he put his arm around her waist. It should have made my stomach roll, but I had a weird moment of thinking they looked cute together. I hadn't seen Mom this comfortable around a man since long before Dad had left. So long ago that I'd almost forgotten what that looked like.

She was genuinely happy. For now. As much as she deserved it, I couldn't say for certain that I felt Raley was the right guy for her. Sure, he had a steady job, which was a cut above some of the losers out there. But he was just so…Raley.

I frowned, realizing that was feeling like a thinner and thinner argument, even in my own head.

I looked to Chase, who glanced at me from the corner of his eye. He gave me a smile. I wondered what was he thinking—possibly plotting an escape? I wouldn't blame him for a second. He'd been a good sport enduring the vegan food and Raley's interrogation.

Finally Mom asked, "Is everyone ready for dessert?"

Chase stood up and said, "Yes, Mrs. Featherstone."

I wasn't sure if he was anxious to eat more or just to get out of there, but we all returned to our seats at the table and Mom served a plate of brownies. She and Raley had coffee, though Chase and I opted for water. Which was totally necessary to wash down the gluten-free, sugar-free squares that were masquerading as dessert. But at least their chewiness prevented much more discussion.

Luckily dessert didn't linger as long as dinner did, and as soon as he'd licked up the last crumb on his plate, Chase said he needed to be getting home.

I walked him outside to the front porch, but before I had a chance to shut the door behind me, Mom appeared and held her hand out to Chase.

"It was a pleasure having you over," she told him. "I hope to see more of you soon."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Thank you, Mrs. Featherstone. I had a good time, and the food was great."

She beamed and stepped back into the house.

Chase and I walked to the top step, and I said, "Thanks for being nice about her food. Her style of vegan cuisine doesn't appeal to everyone."

He shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Where?" I joked. "Prison?"

"Nah. The food in prison was great." He gave me a teasing wink before adding, "But thanks for the invite. It was cool to meet your parents."

"Parent," I clarified. "Raley is just…" I trailed off, searching for the right word. "…just here a lot."

Chase chuckled. "Sorry. Can't be easy living under the watchful eye of the cops."

"He doesn't live here," I clarified again. "He's just—"

"Here a lot?" Chase's eyes twinkled with that amusement again.

This time I didn't resist the urge at all, my eyeballs going to my hairline.

"'Night, Featherstone," he said, still chuckling. He stepped off the porch and walked down the street to wherever he'd parked, swallowed up by the darkness before he got there. Within seconds, I heard his engine.

Back inside, Mom and Raley were chatting on the sofa. I feared Mom would call me over to watch TV with them or ask about tonight and Chase, but they paid me no attention. What a relief.

I ran up to my room and quickly changed into sweats. It was early still, so I did a little homework that I'd put off until the last minute. Then I snuggled up in my bed with my phone.

I pulled up the game Phoebe had downloaded for me and played for a few minutes. While the graphics weren't top notch, it wasn't bad for a mobile version. It required a lot of dexterity, which was challenging, but the rewards came often enough that it was hard to stop. I finally hit a level where I kept dying in the same spot, and shut it down for the night.

I switched screens and watched a few YouTube videos and scrolled through some social media posts. After several from classmates lamenting the end of the three-day weekend, I somehow ended up browsing postings about Gamer Con and Connor Simon's death.

OMG, I can't believe he got killed. He was cute.

What happened? Why am I always the last to know?

Who is he? Who cares?

No, this can't be. He and @SophiaLarson are my #relationshipgoals

I clicked on Sophia's name in that last post and was taken to her page. I noticed that her posts had become more subdued in the past day. A little fewer bikini photos and less squealing about totally cute handbags and more somber and about how she'd miss the "love of her life" who had been "taken from her too soon." Her latest post was dated just an hour ago.

Can't believe he's really gone. Saying my last goodbye tomorrow.

It was accompanied by a link to a memorial service notice for Connor Simon. 1pm the following day at Green Hills Memorial Home.