Didnt see you coming, p.1
Didn't See You Coming, page 1
Table of Contents
Didn’t See You Coming
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing
Didn’t See You Coming
by
Gabbi Grey
The Haunting of Pinedale High Series
Copyright Notice
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Didn’t See You Coming
COPYRIGHT © 2024 by Gabbi Grey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Edition, 2025
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-5942-7
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-5943-4
The Haunting of Pinedale High Series
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
Axel—for your first beta read, you knocked it out of the park.
Chapter One
Holden
“What do you mean I don’t have style?” Of course, I used air quotes as I repeated Peyton’s statement.
She grinned. “You’re out, loud, and proud.” She pointed to my button-down white shirt and chinos. “You could do better.”
I scrunched my nose. I thought my style was just fine. Peyton was the problem on this front. “Like wear a rainbow flag? Or a pink T-shirt with a unicorn vomiting glitter?”
My best friend vibrated with excitement. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. New school year—”
“Do you have to remind me?” I dipped my fry in ketchup. Lou’s Diner made the best fries in all of Pinedale. And the diner was open late, which was a huge bonus. Not that Mom let me out that late—but I liked that the option was there. Pinedale, North Carolina, was a safe town, for which I was grateful. If I did go out in the small hours of the night, at least I wasn’t likely to be bashed in Pinedale. I could find worse places in NC to grow up.
“You love school.” She elongated the O in love to the point of annoyance.
“I don’t love school.” I popped the fry into my mouth. Then realized I couldn’t finish my statement without saying more than I wanted her to know.
“If you didn’t look like a dork—”
I cut her off by holding up my hand. I swallowed. “Girl, there is nothing wrong with my style.”
“It’s…like, preppy. Who wears that?”
“Me.” I snagged my burger, eyed the size, and decided I didn’t want to wind up wearing anything that might fall out. I put the burger back down on the plate and cut it into quarters. “I like dressing smartly. For success.”
“Holden, darling, you stock shelves at a grocery store.”
I glared. “It’s a respectable job. I make more than minimum wage.” I’d been there three years and had earned three raises and three bonuses. Mr. O said I was an excellent employee.
“Because no one else wants the job.”
“It’s a good job.” I wasn’t going to mention that sometimes he gave me damaged products or produce about to go bad. Those things went a long way to easing the financial strain at home.
“Now, can we talk about your wardrobe?” I bit into my burger.
Peyton held up a fry and waved it at me. “No way. You are not changing the subject.” She gazed down at her T-shirt, jeans, and shitkicker combat boots.
I swallowed. “Butch lesbian much?”
“Oh, you so did not go there.”
“Oh, I so did.” I grinned. Neither of us liked labels, so insinuating she might be one thing or another was sure to tick her off. And stop her scrutinizing my wardrobe choices. Is she right? Am I—gasp—preppy? “And whose fault is it anyway that I’m out?” This burger truly was the best in town. I focused on the juicy beef patty instead of the echo of the panic I’d felt when that mess went down.
“You’re going there again?” She growled. “You always just have to bring that up.”
I swallowed and took a sip of my cola. “Look, you were the one who got caught kissing Susan Delgado under the bleachers. Everyone has a cell phone, Pey. You honestly thought no one would see?”
She pursed her lips. “The game ended hours earlier. How was I supposed to know Jason Moskowitz was lurking around with his cell phone? He’s—”
“Yeah, he is. And he got in trouble.” By then, though, the damage had been done. Kids at school had razzed Pey continuously. Susan’s parents had pulled her out of school and sent her to a boarding school near Fayetteville. Personally, I thought that was over-the-top. We felt so bad for her, but Peyton couldn’t do anything without making it worse.
Total ridiculous homophobic meltdown on the part of Susan’s parents.
“Serious trouble.” Peyton sipped her soda. “He’s lucky I didn’t sue or something.”
“Or something.” We went over this a couple of times a year.
She grabbed my hand. “But you saved me.” She used a heavy Southern accent for that line.
I grinned as usual, hiding the gut-churning anxiety that had led up to my decision. Because between abandoning Pey or facing our classmates out and proud, the decision had been easy. “I came out. Interest in you died down.”
Her hazel eyes shimmered. “They decided you were a better target.”
“Helps that you started dating Mark Walker.”
“A senior and a tight end.” She sighed.
I sighed as well. Mark’s tight end was epic. And now off at college with a scholarship. I’d miss watching him on the field this year.
He was now on a football scholarship to Baylor.
Peyton had done the kind thing and broken up with him before he left. He hadn’t been a great love affair for her, and she wanted him free to date any girl he might meet. Well, at eighteen, they’d be women. I couldn’t wait to be twenty—then no one could call me a teenager anymore. Twenty-one would be epic, though. Booze.
“I saw Mark last week.” Peyton took another sip of her orange soda.
I raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t stay in Texas?”
“He came home to visit his parents. I saw him throwing a ball around with some of the younger kids at a day camp. He’s such a great guy.”
“Would you date him if he came back?” I’d consumed three quarters of my burger and was eyeing the fourth. I hated to waste food, but I needed to leave room for the chocolate ice cream sundae we were going to share. Without nuts. Peyton hated nuts.
“He’s not coming back.”
Her certainty caught me off guard.
“That’s a definite. He told me…” She gazed around, then turned back to me. “That he’s in love with the physical trainer for the team.”
“Lucky woman. Anyone who can snag—”
She reached across the table and slapped my shoulder.
I grabbed at my arm and made a show of rubbing it. She’d barely grazed me. I just loved pretending to be hurt to give her a hard time.
“The trainer’s a man.” Peyton’s glare continued. “That was sexist of you.”
“Thinking the physical trainer was a woman? I thought that was quite progressive of me.”
“Assuming Mark would be dating a woman.”
That had me stopping in my tracks. “So he’s…”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Did you know?”
“That he was gay? Of course I knew.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I arched an eyebrow.
“He was in the closet.”
“I’m your best friend.”
“And terrible at keeping a secret.” She furrowed her brow. “I shouldn’t have told you now.” She eyed me.
“I can keep a secret.” I probably should’ve been offended. Except she was right—I was a terrible secret keeper. But outing someone? That I would never do.
“Being outed was tough.” She winced. “Having the entire school know I’m bi is pretty…” She gazed up. “Interesting.”
“As opposed to the entire school knowing you’re gay?” I sat with the discomfort. I loved that I didn’t have to hide—being a terrible secret keeper and all—but coming out had been tough.
Especially on my mom. She worked in a factory with a mixture of nice guys and a bunch of assholes. They’d taunted her about me. She hadn’ t told me, of course.
Kristie Knight had told me her dad was bitching about it at the dinner table one night. He worked with my mom and, thank God, was one of the good guys. He’d stood up for me and my mom. That had irritated the shit out of her because she believed she should be able to stand up for herself. Secretly, I was relieved. I didn’t need to worry about her safety on top of everything else I was stressed about. Mr. Knight was six-five and about two hundred and forty pounds of solid muscle.
“Hello?” Peyton waved her hand in front of my face. “You know, we keep having the same conversation. You didn’t have to come out.” She pushed her burger away.
“Is this because I don’t go around with a rainbow painted on my ass?”
She giggled. “That would totally be hilarious. I mean, you would also be naked.” She raked her gaze up and down. “At least you’re not scrawny.”
I raised my arms and did a muscle-man pose. “Must be strong to hold trumpet.” I winced as I lowered them. “The trumpet I play badly.”
“You should’ve taken the clarinet like me. Woodwind always beats brass.”
“Brass is so loud that you can barely hear your little sound.”
Peyton grinned. “Oh, brass speaks. I didn’t know you could. You usually just bellow.”
I pushed my food away. “I won’t tell anyone about Mark if you stop teasing me about my style.” Then I regretted making the comment, because even teasing about outing someone was shitty.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to tell anyone about Mark because you’re a decent guy. I reserve the right to tease you about your style.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I know.”
That rarely portended something good.
“Lily brought home a lovely red sweatshirt. Brand new, never washed. Very red.”
I grasped my pristine white shirt in protection. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I so would. You’d look good in pink.”
I growled. “You’re not touching my stuff.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Are you finished with your meals?” Morgan stood at our booth, pointing to our plates.
I loved their personality—just sparkly. Today they wore tights and a short skirt under their black apron paired with a pink frilly blouse. The apron was the only uniform in this joint. All the staff were free to wear whatever they chose. Morgan alternated between very femme and very masc. Totally depended on their mood. And if anyone gave them shit, the owner showed them the door and told them to never come back. Given Lou’s Diner had the best burgers for twenty miles, she’d only had to kick out a handful of people. Word got around. Everyone left Morgan alone.
“We are, thanks.” Peyton waved her hand. “One to-go container.”
“Sure.” Morgan smiled. “And the sundae, right?”
“Of course.” Peyton bit her lower lip. “Because they’re the best ever.”
Just before Morgan stepped away, the bells rang, and they glanced at the door. As always, at the possibility of seeing someone new, I glanced up.
Morgan whistled. “Speaking of the best ever. I have to take care of him, and then I’ll bring your sundae.” They headed for the door.
My breath caught. A tall, muscular, redheaded god stood in the doorway. With the setting sun behind him, his hair shone like burnished gold. He wore a tight black T-shirt and jeans that hugged every muscle in his thighs. Please have a tight ass. I love tight asses.
“Stop staring.” Peyton hissed the words even as the god scanned the room.
He caught my eye.
Our gazes held.
His blue eyes sparkled. Or at least they were blue in my mind. A little hard to see all the way across the diner.
Must just be the light, because no one has eyes that stunning.
The god’s attention shifted to Morgan. They were presenting today as more masc but with femme clothes, so I held my breath. The god gave Morgan a huge smile as he followed them to a stool at the lunch counter. Oh good, likely not a bigot. That wasn’t always a given. Pinedale was making progress—and better than many other small towns—but we still had people who believed I should be damned to hell.
I gave that bullshit exactly the amount of attention it deserved. Namely zero.
“You really have to stop gawking.” Peyton casually turned so she could get a better look. Props to her for looking less suspicious. She turned back to me. “Okay, like…I want to say a nine. But rating people based on looks is a horrible thing to do.”
“He’s an eleven anyway.” She was right about judging someone by their appearance. That being said, I knew—on a good day—I was about a seven. Medium height, slender build, medium-brown hair and medium-brown eyes. I wasn’t a troll, but I just didn’t stand out from a crowd.
The god did.
Morgan was tall, but the redhead was half a foot taller. Easily. Maybe even more.
“One ice cream sundae with extra chocolate. And two spoons.”
I nearly leapt out of my seat as I’d been distracted by the god and hadn’t seen Morgan coming.
They placed the food as well as my to-go container on the table. They smiled. “You can pay at the front.”
“Did you get his name?” I leaned toward Morgan. They were always a font of information.
They rolled their eyes. “Oliver, and he’s new in town. Starts school tomorrow. I don’t know where he’s from or why he’s here.”
I took here to mean the diner. Although maybe Morgan meant Pinedale.
“Well, we don’t have time to sit around and wait for you to interrogate him.” Peyton arched her eyebrow at me, then checked her phone. “Your mom leaves for work in thirty minutes.”
Wincing, I nodded to Morgan. “Thanks.” I leaned over. “But later, right?”
They grinned. “There is such a thing as server/customer privilege.”
“Ah.” If anyone was a bigger gossip than me, it would be Morgan. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” They wrinkled their nose. “I hate school.”
I almost asked if they’d gotten any more modeling gigs in Raleigh. If they hadn’t, though, it might make them sad for me to bring it up. “Thanks.”
They smiled, pressed a hand to my biceps, and said, “Yeah, anytime.” Then they were gone. They’d once asked permission to touch us. As I suspected they didn’t have a lot of affection in their life, Peyton and I readily agreed.
I watched them sashay over to the new guy. “Oh man, Peyton. That’s the type of boyfriend I want. He reminds me of that hot Scottish guy my mom’s in love with.”
“Hot Scottish guy? There’s a Scottish guy in Pinedale?”
My gaze snapped to hers. “What? No.” I waved her off. “Some television show she loves to watch. I dunno…I think based on a book. He’s hot. So’s the villain, though. Hard to pick a side.”
“You always pick the side of good.”
I cocked my head. Did she mean people should always pick the side of good in general or that I usually picked the side of good? Pretty much, though, she was right either way.
“He is hot.” She fanned her face as I dug into the sundae—ensuring I got my fair share of chocolate gooey goodness.
“How hot?” I squinted. This time at Peyton, not New Guy.
She grinned. “I don’t think I’ll go after him. I mean, he’s super cute, but not really my type.”
I blinked. “Peyton, sweetie, you don’t have a type.” I considered. “And I thought you had a crush on Juliette?”
“Yeah, well, Juliette’s one hundred percent straight.” She held out her hand and enumerated. “She’s so pretty. She goes out with Lucas, the football captain—who also happens to be the quarterback. She’s, like, one of the smartest girls in school. And finally, she’s the most genuine.” She raised her last finger. “My life sucks. I hate that I’m in the band in this dorky uniform while the beautiful, lovely Juliette is captain of the cheerleading team.”
“Yeah, that really sucks.”
Across the room, Oliver grinned as Morgan handed him…a basket of breaded shrimp.
Ew. Fish. Still, I could learn to love shellfish if it got me closer to the hottie.
“Holden.”
My attention snapped back to my best friend. “What?”
“We were talking about my love life. Or the lack thereof.” She frowned. “And anyway, loser, you’re not even paying attention to me. What would you know about being in love? You claim you’re gay, but you don’t date.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Screw you. Who the hell am I meant to date? Rodney Fulham? Yeah right. The guy is an asshole. He gives all us queers a bad name. And by the way, the school isn’t really overrun with gay teens out of the closet.”
