Inbetween (Kissed by Death, #1) (28 page)

“No. We can’t.” Grandma glances at me. I can tell she wants to move closer for an inspection, but manners—and most likely shock—keep her back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dylan,” she says.

Her gaze lances through me. I get this feeling like I should apologize, but I can’t think what I’ve done wrong, exactly. I don’t especially like the feeling. So instead, I thrust out my hand and throw her a smile laced with sarcasm. “Hey there,
Granny
.”

There’s a sudden void of sound, like the whole world stops for a millisecond, shocked by my rudeness. It whispers on the wind, “She’s your grandmother. Have a little respect.”

She blinks, and then her mouth cracks open into a wide smile, followed by a sharp laugh. She grabs my hand and squeezes. “You’re your mother’s child, all right.”

I stiffen. She has no idea how deeply she’s insulted me. Or maybe she does, because the sunlight suddenly splinters in her eyes, and her fingers squeeze mine.

Mom’s fixated on the car, and she’s as jittery as a crack addict. “Can we unpack, now?” she whines, and lights up a cigarette, sucking so hard the tip burns quickly into squiggly ash.

Grandma lets go of my hand to cup my face. There’s an analytical slant to her stare—a “who’s your daddy” look. I can see her mentally click through the slim White Pages of her acquaintances, searching for the culprit. A shadow of suspicion flickers before she gives my cheek a gentle pat. “You’re a handsome boy, Dylan. I bet your girlfriend is still crying over you leaving.”

Girls have been giggling and sighing over me since I hit the sixth grade. I won’t lie. I like girls, and I like the attention they pour on me. A lot. But as soon as I get attached to one, we leave. Over the years, I’ve learned to adapt. To play the field. Life is less complicated that way.

I shrug and look at Mom. “I’m not strictly a one-woman guy, right, Mom?”

She blows out a thick stream of smoke before pitching the spent butt on the ground and grinding it out. “No, you’re not.”

Grandma’s eyes twinkle. “A Romeo, huh?” When I start to pull away, her fingers intertwine with mine, and she leads me back up the dirt road toward the house. “Trust me. A time will come when one special person is all you’ll want.”

Mom snorts and lights another cigarette.

God, I hope not. The last thing I want is to become like Mom; chasing
the one
and always slinking away with the taste of burnt ash in my mouth.

To lose yourself in Dylan and Kera’s romance, pick up

The Marked Son

online or in a bookstore near you!