Bound To You (The Grabber FanFiction)

Stay

Abigail
The air was sticky, and the sky for the last hour of daylight was a peculiar shade of gray. Then again, the sky over Galesburg was always gray. It wasn't supposed to rain tonight, but those clouds seemed like they wanted to.

I gazed up at the sky, where the stars, unchanging in their nightly dance, seemed to mock me. The constellations, with their ancient patterns, whispered unsettling questions about whether my destiny was woven among them. The vastness of the universe seemed to tease me with secrets only it held. Despite my efforts, thoughts of him persisted, refusing to be ignored. Surely, that had to mean something.

Albert assured me his door was always open, but as I waited for him to unlock what sounded like three deadbolts, doubt crept in. When he finally cracked the door open, his eyes lit up at the sight of me.

"Abigail?" His surprise was evident in his voice.

I wanted to respond naturally, to greet him as any normal person would. But instead, I found myself staring silently. The shield of the phone was gone, and I sensed Albert's patience wearing thin for another standoff on his front lawn.

"Come in, quickly, it looks like rain any minute," he urged, swinging the door wide open to welcome me inside. I found humor that even a man who lived here for almost fifty years could still be fooled by that ever-cloudy sky.

I stood in the center of his living room, feeling somewhat detached. Albert approached from behind and briskly took hold of my shoulders, guiding my jacket off. I allowed him to slide it from my arms.

"Thank you, Sir," I murmured.

"Sit down, don't be shy," he directed, indicating the couch. I followed his gesture and took a seat.

"Hm," Albert offered only a noncommittal sound before shifting his gaze toward the kitchen. "Can I grab you a drink? I have beer, although you strike me as someone who'd prefer something sweeter."

"No, thank you," I declined with a shake of my head. Albert studied me intently, silently pressing for a different answer. "Really, it's okay. I... I don't drink."

Albert furrowed his brows, then approached me. As I straightened my posture, he crouched down to my eye level, scrutinizing me like an unfamiliar specimen. "There you go again with that little good girl act."

"Pardon?" I responded, taken aback.

"Are you allowed to drink?" Albert raised an eyebrow.

"If you're asking if I'm old enough... I assure you... I am," I affirmed, crossing my arms defensively. "But my father says..."

"Oh boy," Albert interjected with a chuckle, his amusement evident. "What else does he say?"

I rolled my eyes, allowing a smirk to play on my lips. "My father says it isn't ladylike to drink."

"Your father sure does talk a whole lot, doesn't he?" Albert laughed. "Well, your father isn't here, and I won't tell."

"Thank you, but I can't. I'm sorry, sir," I insisted.

"Maybe you really are a good girl. I didn't think there were any left," Albert mused, gently stroking my cheek. "Though you always have to keep an eye out for the quiet ones."

He returned from the kitchen with a beer and a bottle of Sprite, placing them directly on the coffee table without bothering with coasters. The absence of any coaster, coupled with the water rings etched into the wood, hinted that a woman hadn't graced this house in quite some time. It wasn't filthy, but it lacked the warmth of a well-tended home. My father's words echoed in my mind: "Men build houses, and women make homes."