Out of the Darkness (Parkdale Series Book 1) Read online

  Out of the Darkness

  Danielle Keil

  Copyright © March 2020 Danielle Keil

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address the publisher.

  Portions of this book are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication:

  CHAPTER ONE | Claire

  CHAPTER TWO | Claire

  CHAPTER THREE | Brandon

  CHAPTER FOUR | Claire

  CHAPTER FIVE | Brandon

  CHAPTER SIX | Claire

  CHAPTER SEVEN | Brandon

  CHAPTER EIGHT | Claire

  CHAPTER NINE | Brandon

  CHAPTER TEN | Claire

  CHAPTER ELEVEN | Brandon

  CHAPTER TWELVE | Claire

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN | Brandon

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN | Claire

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN | Brandon

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN | Claire

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | Brandon

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | Claire

  CHAPTER NINETEEN | Brandon

  CHAPTER TWENTY | Claire

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | Brandon

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | Claire

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | Brandon

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | Brandon

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | Claire

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX | Brandon

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN | Brandon

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT | Brandon

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE | Claire

  CHAPTER THIRTY | Claire

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE | Claire

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO | Brandon

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE | Claire

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR | Brandon

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE | Claire

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX | Brandon

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN | Claire

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT | Brandon

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE | Claire

  CHAPTER FORTY | Brandon

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE | Claire

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO | Brandon

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE | Claire

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR | Brandon

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE | Claire

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX | Brandon

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN | Claire

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT | Claire

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE | Brandon

  Acknowledgements:

  About the Author:

  Also by Danielle Keil:

  Dedication:

  To my husband, my children, and my dog: I’m glad you’re all still alive and kicking after all the times I ignored you to get this book done. Love you all.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Claire

  I enjoyed people watching. No matter where I was, there were always interesting people. Even when I thought I wanted to be alone, secluded with my thoughts, I would find someone to look at. Creating their backstory, trying to figure out their lives, and imagining everything about them was a hobby of mine.

  I could usually count on the park to be a busy place, but today, the day of the Parkdale Start of Summer Town Bash, it was practically empty. The festival boomed on the next block. A band played, children screamed, and the dull murmur of people rose from everywhere.

  Every now and then a family did walk by, either on their way to the festival or coming back from it. Occasionally they stopped to let their kids play on the playground, their little faces glowing with excitement as they let out a small shriek of joy. The parents wavered in their reactions— from exhausted sighs to small smiles, watching their kids enjoy themselves.

  The wooden bench I currently occupied had me facing the playground and the open grassy field, with my back to the basketball courts. When I arrived about fifteen minutes ago, two teenage boys were finishing up their game. The melodic beat of the ball pounding on the court lulled me into a trance. I had closed my eyes for a moment, meditating to the drumming. They took off after a few minutes, letting the silence take over instead.

  I tilted my head back to the sun, closing my eyes, and listening to the voices from afar as the rays washed over my face. It wasn’t quite warm enough to work on a tan, but I knew I had time to do that this summer. My black v-neck drew the sun to me, warming me like a hug. Paired with jeans, it was the perfect late spring/early summer outfit. I knew within the next few weeks the temperature would soar and we would all be begging for air conditioning while sweating our butts off, so I savored this feeling while I could.

  A car door slammed, jolting me out of my seclusion. I twisted around, laying my elbow over the back of the bench, watching the blue sedan that must have just pulled up. Someone was rummaging through it, a set of obviously male legs and his butt sticking out of the back seat. I laughed silently to myself, watching him squirm. His legs were clad in the typical gym shorts, hugging his behind nicely.

  I smiled and continued to observe as he stood up, his back still to me, a basketball under his left arm. Feeling a little stalker-ish, I turned back around, opening my book to where I left off moments ago.

  It wasn’t until I heard the thump of the ball meeting the ground that I chanced another glance over my shoulder. Whoa. If his butt was any indication of the rest of him, then wow. He looked about my age, late high school, but gorgeous enough to be modeling those basketball shorts instead of just wearing them.

  I couldn’t get a good look at his features, but the way his shaggy, light brown hair shone in the sun and highlighted his face was enough for me. I could see the definition in his jawline from all the way over here— it was so sharp it could cut glass.

  I took a deep breath, knowing very well that I shouldn’t have been watching him. I glanced down at my wrist, the word trust staring back at me. I returned to my book, vowing not to turn around again until the noise stopped.

  Ten minutes later, and my body was about to burst at the seams with desire. It took all the self-control in me not to turn around. The pounding of the ball never let go, only breaking for a moment as it hit the backboard or the hoop. I stared at my book, rereading the same three pages over and over again, but not absorbing a single word. I had to leave this bench or else I would explode. Curiosity would get the best of me.

  That was it. I would get up, sneak one more quick glance at the hunk behind me, then move on. I knew Ali, my best friend, was probably still at the festival, trying to get Jackson, my other best friend, to set her up with one of his football buddies. I put in my time earlier visiting some booths, playing some games, letting Jackson buy me a funnel cake. After an hour or two, I had reached my extrovert limit and said my goodbyes. Ali offered me a ride home if she was still around when I was ready to go, but I could also walk. The late setting sun allowed me plenty of time to get back before dark. I may have lived all my life in Parkdale, but I knew than to walk home alone at night.

  Placing my paperback on the bench next to me, I stretched my legs out front before setting them on the blacktop and standing. Twisting my back, pretending to stretch, I glanced behind me and froze, shocked at what I saw. Sometime in the last few minutes two little kids joined the boy on the court. Instead of keeping to himself and ignoring the kids, who probably were no more than five or six years old, he was playing with them. Full on chasing them down the court when one ran away with his ball, tickling him when he was caught. My jaw dropped. It was
n’t every day you saw a teenage boy willing to play with small kids. Heck, it wasn’t every day you saw a teenager play with kids period. Unless they were getting paid, that was.

  I stood there, my head tilted, watching them as they continued their game. The boy lifted the younger kid, a girl with the cutest little blond ringlets, up in the air, letting her shoot a basket. When the ball went in, he placed her on his shoulders, doing a victory lap around the court, letting out a loud whoop. He then showed the little boy how to dribble the ball, taking a few seconds to show off, dribbling between his legs, and doing some fancy moves.

  I laughed out loud suddenly, surprising myself. My hands flew over my mouth, my eyes wide in fear that they heard me. That was my cue to go, before I got caught and labeled some creep who watches people at the park.

  Which, I mean, I did. Like all the time. But usually not in a creepy way like this. I gathered my book, slid my phone into my back pocket, and took the long way around the park towards the small pond on the other side. I didn’t look back, not wanting to know if the boy or the family saw me.

  I strolled over to the perfect reading spot, which I knew was perfect because I sat there often. Every summer since I was eight, in fact, I sat in this exact same spot in front of the pond. It was away from the more popular area, where the ducks and geese always ventured, knowing someone would be around to feed them seeds. Nope, definitely couldn’t sit there— too much poop.

  The other side of the pond hosted the library and its picnic tables. Too crowded there. But this side; the side closest to the playground, yet off the pathway about fifty feet or so, this was ideal. A big maple tree, blooming in all its massive green glory sat ten feet behind me. I sat between it and the water, a cluster of rocks separating us. Some rocks were small enough to skip on the water, some were large enough to sit on. The lapping of the water onto the rocks made a harmonious white noise, usually only obtained through some sort of machine for those who couldn’t sleep well.

  I slipped off my black Sanuk sandals, rolling up my jeans a few inches so I could get my toes wet. Dipping my feet in, I yanked them back out quickly, the water freezing cold. I shook my head. Duh Claire, it’s not even June yet. I stepped back a foot, patting the grass where I was going to sit, making sure it wasn’t damp. Nothing is worse than a giant wet spot on your jeans when you went to stand up.

  There was nothing better than this. The sun was still shining, the water was a beautiful shade of blue, and only a few clouds dotted the sky. I bent my knees, bringing them to my chest as I hugged them, bringing my book around towards my feet. I could barely hear the noise of the festival from down here; even the giggles of the kids from the basketball court were but a whisper.

  The thought of that boy jumped back into my head, how his hair was routinely getting into his face as he jumped around with the kids. I sighed, knowing I would probably never see him again, and knowing I wouldn’t even be able to tell Ali about it. He had to be my little secret, and I didn’t even get close enough to really see him. If I told Ali, she would go on a rampage, searching high and low to find out who he was. Especially if I told her I thought he was cute; that was a full-blown green light for Ali. She was always trying to set me up, but I usually refused. If someone wanted to go out with me, it would happen, and not because they were forced by my best friend.

  Thumbing through my book, I found the page I left off on and began to read. There were no distractions on this side of my pond, so I was able to get sucked back into the story quickly. Everything tuned out as I flipped page after page, devouring chapter after chapter. Goosebumps popped up on my arms as the temperature dropped slightly. I knew I would have to get home soon, but I couldn’t put the book down.

  “Watcha reading?” a voice behind me asked. My heart leapt into my throat, the breath knocked out of my lungs. My hands flew into the air, clutching my chest in fear. I jumped to my feet, turning around to face the person who scared the ever-living crap out of me.

  Those eyes. My heart completely stopped as the most gorgeous emerald green eyes stared back at me. It was him; the boy from the basketball court. His eyes were framed by lashes I could only dream of recreating with makeup, currently blinking at me, waiting for an answer. But I didn’t have one just yet; I was speechless. His hair had been pulled back with a black bandanna, knotted at the base of his skull, letting the golden-brown strands flop over it, but stay out of his eyes. The beautiful, sparkling green eyes full of wonder and amusement.

  The jawline that could cut glass? Yup, even more defined up close. A small hint of stubble adorned the square lines of his cheeks and chin. I continued down, unashamed of my wandering eyes. He wore a plain gray sleeveless tank, hanging loose on his body, but sweaty under his arms. The black mesh gym shorts hung low on his hips, reaching almost to his knees. Black gym shoes with white ankle socks completed his look, yet I continued staring, wanting to find more.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice drew my attention back to his face. He beamed and I fainted. Well, almost. Inside I died a little bit, seeing two gorgeous dimples pop on his cheeks as he smiled.

  “It’s... it’s ok. No worries. Was just engrossed in my— no!” I practically shouted, turning back to the spot I just arose from. I quickly scanned the grass, not finding my book anywhere. I must have thrown it when he scared me, sending it straight towards...

  “The pond. There, on the rocks. I got it!” He got busy hopping up and down as he took off one shoe then the other. I cocked my head, watching him head towards the pond, still in his socks. It was as if he were about to...

  Yup. He was. He was headed into the water. Taking a few test steps onto the rocks, he paused and searched, finding my book three feet away, half in the water, half out. One side was completely soaked up to the spine, the other threatening to be the same in the next few seconds.

  I tried to tell him to leave it, but couldn’t get the words out. He teetered on the rocks, his arms out for balance, inching his way towards my submerged paperback. My destroyed book, I should say. A book that was worthless at this point, so why bother going through all this trouble? But I was fixated; I couldn’t believe what my eyes were currently showing me.

  There he was. A mystery man. Shoeless. In sweaty gym clothes and a bandanna. Attempting to rescue a book that flew out of my hands because he scared the daylights out of me with two words. It was the most insane scenario I could even imagine.

  One second he was standing there, reaching for the book with an outstretched hand, the next, all I saw was splashing. Man down. One foot wedged itself under a rock, the other completely submerged to his knee. He must have slipped, crashing into the water as ungraceful as a baby horse.

  I bit my thumbnail, my hand covering my mouth trying to hold back laughter. This was absolutely ridiculous. Surely he realized how crazy this was, right? I sunk down into the grass, crossing my legs beneath me and rested my elbows on my knees, cradling my chin. I bit my bottom lip to keep from completely bursting. This was the greatest show I had witnessed since Jackson attempted to learn how to do a cartwheel.

  Snatching up my book with an enthusiastic “Gotcha, sucker!”, the boy wiggled his foot free, hopping back onto land. He looked down, seeing me on the ground and quickly came to join me, shaking off his wet foot in the process, little droplets of pond water landing on me.

  And that’s when I lost it. I flopped onto my back, hands clutching my stomach, attempting to breathe between massive giggle fits. I was roaring with laughter before I realized how rude I might seem, but I couldn’t stop. Once a laugh attack started, there was no stopping me, ever. It’s a little trait most people found adorable. But when giggle fits came at more inappropriate times like this... maybe not so cute.

  Taking a deep breath, I managed to roll my head to the left and bite my tongue long enough to look at the guy next to me. Who, thankfully, was currently mimicking my position- laying on his back, knees bent up, a giant grin on his face... and laughing. His eyes narrowe
d as his smile stretched across his face, a deep belly laugh escaping his lips.

  We locked eyes, mine damp with tears from laughing so hard, his dazzling like gems in the sunlight. The sweat from playing basketball glistened on his forehead, his bandanna a bit darker there than the rest of it. I sucked in a breath, halting all laughter. His eyes were pulling me in, like magnets drawn together. I couldn’t stop staring at him, his dimples, his smile.

  “Well that’s some way to make a first impression,” he said, breaking the figurative ice. His voice was deep, but soothing. It made me want to hear more, to listen to him as I fell asleep every night. “I swear, this is not how I normally start conversations with girls.” The playful nature of his voice sent shock waves through my body. The hair on my arms stood up again, but not from the chill in the air.

  Pushing my lackluster brown hair behind my ears, I reached for my sunglasses off the front of my shirt and slid them up on my head in a makeshift headband. “Not your usual, huh? You mean you don’t usually go for the opposite of the movies? Usually the girl stumbles and the guy is there to rescue her, not the other way around.” I lifted the corner of my mouth in a half smile. Those dimples were killing me, creating the most adorable little dots on either side of his face. I wanted to crawl inside of them and live there. Wait, is that creepy? Whatever, I don’t care. They’re both adorable and hot at the same time. Add them to the gorgeous megawatt smile he’s got going on and whoa.

  “Well let’s start over then because I’m definitely way more of a teen rom com kind of hero.” He jumped to his feet, dusting off his shorts. I stared, my brow furrowed, a frown appearing on my face. He took a moment to strip the floppy, wet socks off his feet and toss them in the general direction of his shoes, while I sat and gawked, not having the slightest clue what was happening.

  This is why I don’t date much. I have no idea what boys are thinking, and what sort of weird games they’re up to. The only boy I well was Jackson, and even he confused the heck out of me quite often.