Ranger [ON HOLD]

Chapter Twenty-five - Chin Up

I had been avoiding Ranger like the plague since Ethan, Martin and Artie had left. 

This resulted in my own frantic scurrying to all opposite corners of the house. If he was at one end, I was determined to be at the opposite end. Going as far as cleaning and re-cleaning every inch of surface I could find in an attempt to seem busy. The whole time no matter how busy I made my hands, mentally I was on a roller-coaster of emotions made up primarily of confusion and fear.

Von had surely noticed my strange behavior the moment the three had pulled out of the driveway, and I had no doubt in my mind Ranger had figured out what I was up to as well. They weren't stupid. Though neither came to step in as I swept the upstairs hallway for the second time nor when I organized the limited amount of movies they had into alphabetical order. 

Every now and then I knew Ranger was trying to figure out how to approach me. And despite my earlier thought that I'd allow it, I found myself fearing it more than anything. I was driven entirely by my own embarrassment and fear in that regard.

Part of me knew I was being childish. Stupid as a matter of fact. Even so I couldn't bring myself to look at him, let alone be in the same room.

No one could blame me... right? I sighed to myself, slapping my cheek lightly with my palm once again as my thoughts drifted toward the kiss for the thousandth time. 

I was acting like a lovesick fangirl! Maybe to some extent, I was a love-sick fangirl, but that was no reason to ignore the important issues surrounding me. And perhaps even that was why I was now scrubbing the already sparkling sink while waiting for the water on the stove to come to a boil.

I needed to return to my world, which I now knew undoubtedly existed alongside with this one. Martin's appearance had only confirmed the thought that there must be some way to go in and out. Though whether or not Martin was the only one capable of using it or not, I couldn't tell. It seemed so far that, that might be the right assumption.

At a young age, Martin's father had vanished just as my mother had. In fact, his disappearance had been a month after my mothers. And for a short time, there were rumors they had run away together, despite the fact that my mother rarely left the house and Martin's father was desperately in love with Martin's mother. It was only fully disproven when his car door had been found off the edge of a road, just shy of a cliff that ran along the edge of the valley. The car, however, had never been found.

I wasn't sure how to ask Artie how he had survived, let alone how he had come to be in this world before the book had even been published. And part of me didn't want to ask such a personal question of them either. Martin and his father were already going to great lengths to help me accomplish something I had barely made a dent in: Getting home.

I'd done nothing but rely on the boys. Cleaning and cooking were simple things anyone could do. I was acting more like a housekeeper than an actual participant in my own life. In the issue that brought me here in the first place. I'd started to get carried away by the world itself, and in such a short amount of time, I'd even found the thought of not leaving coming up more often than I felt comfortable with.

I peered into the large cooking pot set atop the stove, my lips pulling into an unflattering scowl. 

"If ya glare into that pot much longer it might boil too fast." 

A tiny part of me had nearly anticipated Von's appearance by now. He was starting to grow the habit of appearing when my thoughts verged on insane. 

My shoulders relaxed and I gave the large man what I hoped to be an at least partially convincing smile. 

As usual, he stood in the doorway, large arms crossed over his chest. Only for the first time since I'd arrived, his sleeves were rolled up, and my eyes were instantly drawn to the dark ink letters twisting around his thick wrists. The lettering seemed neat, yet made of hard thick lines. Russian.