CAUGHT IN THE GLOOM

CHAPTER FIVE

IAN'S POV

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath. "Who's there?" I called out, trying to picture who could possibly be on the other side.

"Nice coming out from the fool that stood me up yesterday." My heart skipped a beat—that was my granny.

"Granny, good morning. How was your night? Why are you still awake at this time? Hope there's no problem, or are you..."

"Shut that silly mouth of yours and get up! It's 6:00 AM already, and I'm not gonna answer your stupid questions. Next time, set your alarm right—make it one hour earlier, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, standing up as fast as I could.

I scrambled to smooth down my clothes, conscious of her sharp, unblinking glare.

"I'm waiting downstairs," she added, turning on her heel before I could even open my mouth to explain.

If I knew what was good for me, I had exactly two minutes to get my act together.

I darted into the bathroom, quickly rinsed my face, and brushed my teeth in a blur of frantic motion.

Minutes later, I changed into comfortable clothes and hurried past the hallway toward the kitchen. Granny wasn't there, but as I turned the corner, I spotted her in the dining room, setting the table with practiced, sharp efficiency.

The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed in the quiet house, each sound keeping time with the anxious thudding in my chest. I took a slow breath, stepping forward before she could call out again.

“At your service, ma’am,” I posed like a waiter, anticipating an order from a customer. She smiled as she scanned my outfit from head to toe.

“Not bad,” she muttered under her breath. Catching it before she continued, she added, “Someone called from Nana’s house this morning. I think the place needs a proper cleaning. Grab some equipment and scrub it clean in less than thirty minutes.”

“Nana’s house? You mean Beatrice De Witt?" I asked to be sure of what I heard, considering the distance and the short time limit.

She didn’t answer—or perhaps she just ignored the look on my face—but I was seriously hungry and needed to eat. “But Nonnie, I’m hungry,” I pleaded, making a puppy face. She cut me off before I could even repeat myself.

That was all the cue I needed to grab the cleaning materials and get to work. My stomach let out a loud, painful growl—an annoying sound that served as a harsh reminder of the cheap alcohol from midnight. 

I picked up an old bicycle from the yard and pedaled down the path, passing familiar houses along the way. I greeted an old woman sitting on her porch and waved at the neighborhood children, who cheered and called out my name. 

Honestly, I guess I’m kind of like a big brother to them—pre-school is a completely different world compared to college anyway, and the age gap between us is way too massive for us to ever be anything else.

The warm breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming jasmine, giving the quiet morning a peaceful feel. Yet, with every turn of the pedals, my legs felt heavier than the last, my energy rapidly draining. Still, the thought of finishing quickly and finally getting something to eat kept me pushing forward.

Ten minutes later, I arrived at Nana's house and noticed a car parked neatly under the mahogany tree. It looked familiar, but I shrugged it off and parked my bicycle beside it.

I quickly picked up the stuff I brought and headed to the front door. The place seemed tranquil, like no one had ever frequented it.

I opened the front door as quietly as possible and headed toward the dining area. Everything seemed dark as the blinds and curtains were down.

I paused in the entryway, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the gloom.

The silence inside was heavy, thick with the faint, comforting scent of Nana’s old lavender perfume.

Then, a soft rustle from the darkness told me I wasn't alone.

A tall, masculine figure emerged from the stairway, moving as quietly and swiftly as possible. He approached the front door, flashing his flashlight everywhere as if searching for an intruder.

I ducked behind the air cooler, holding my breath. A few moments later, the figure disappeared into thin air.

I stood up immediately and shadowed him to a nearby room. Peering inside, I saw him about to open a chest—Nana's treasure.

In a surge of haste, I reached out from behind and clamped my hand directly over his mouth, stopping him in his tracks.

He reacted instantly, violently shoving me off him before I could react, slamming me hard onto the floor.

Taking advantage of my shock, he pinned me down and rained blows upon me. I threw my hands up and tilted my head wildly, trying to dodge the punches and block his fists.

Desperation fueled me, and I managed to drive my knee straight up into his ribs, forcing him to wheeze and stumble back.

 I scrambled backward across the dusty floorboards, my heart hammering against my chest like a trapped bird.

 The taste of copper filled my mouth as I pulled myself up, refusing to let him get his hands on the chest.

He stood up immediately and charged toward me, closing the distance between us in a flash before pausing, trying to figure something out. 

A look of realization washed over his face as his mouth opened in amazement, a slight smile creeping onto his lips.

"You again?" he asked, his voice laced with perplexed amusement.

Oh, I remembered that voice—the stranger I’d met just hours ago. What a small world. A sudden wave of relief washed over me, brief enough to make me forget the dull aching in my body.

“Ian?” he called out, his voice growing firmer as he took me in. “What’s your business here?”

“What are you doing here?” I muttered back, my breath hitching in my chest.

“Nonnie’s order. Some dude called this morning and made me skip my meals.”

It was funny how easily I was opening up to a total stranger.

I leaned back against the wall, watching his brows furrow as he absorbed my response. For a second, neither of us said a word, the silence between us heavy with unanswered questions. 

Then, a faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stepped a little closer.

“What if I tell you I was the dude that called your granny this morning?” he asked with a questioning look on his face.

Cornered and wrapped in his strong cologne, I whispered into his ear, “Not bad,” before biting playfully on his earlobe.

A low chuckle vibrated against his chest as his hands came up to steady my waist.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ian,” he murmured, his breath warm against my neck.

I pulled back just enough to catch his gaze, letting a slow, defiant smile touch my lips.

"It’s not like I’m playing dirty, and you were the one staring earlier—that flashback to the poolside had me dreaming, though.”

Before he could respond, his phone vibrated against his hip, the screen lighting up with a caller ID that made his grip on my waist go instantly cold. 

He glanced down, his smile vanishing as the name Granny flashed across the display. 

Then, slowly raising his eyes to mine, he whispered, "She wasn't calling me, Ian... she was calling you.”