Page 17 of Even in the Dark

I glance over at Dylan, taking in the scrapes on his cheek that are almost healed now but still a contrast against his chiseled profile. He’s staring steadfastly out the window, lost in thought. I can’t imagine what’s going on behind those stoic steel-green eyes—if he lets himself think about what this place would look like to him if things hadn’t happened the way they did.

There’s suddenly a loudthwack!on my side window, and I screech, jumping back in my seat. Dylan jolts, eyes wide. "Mother fu—."

Before he has time to finish his colorful retort, a huge, tanned palm lands against my window. And a second later, Seb Murdoch’s grinning face appears beside it as he crouches down.

“Shit, Seb! You scared the hell out of me!” I check my rear-view mirror, then the light, which is still red, and then quickly glance around.

His black Jeep is parked diagonally just outside Mallard’s Convenience.

I put the window down. “What the hell are you doing here? I’m at a freakin’ traffic light! I could have—”

“Relax.” Seb grins, leaning back to peer at the road, then back at me. “Don’t get your knickers all in a knot. There’s no one behind you.” Then his eyes flicker to Dylan. “Oh, hey.” Seb looks mildly bashful. “Didn’t realize there was anyone else in the car… Sorry if I freaked you out.” His lips quirk into a genuine smile. “Seb, by the way.” He does one of those chin thrust things guys do as a greeting.

“Oh?Hegets an apology?” I interject. “And I get the mild heart attack?”

“So dramatic, Thiels.”

“So ugly, Murdoch.”

He grins wider, popping his dimple. “…Lies.”

I cave and relinquish a smile. It’s what he’s really after. “This is Dylan, by the way,” I gesture with my chin towards my silent passenger. “Dylan—Seb.”

“Good to meet you, man,” Seb squats lower so he can stick his head a little farther inside to address Dylan. “First day?”

“Yeah.”

Seb’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “What the hell did you do to get stuck carpooling with Scarr?” One side of his grin curls a little higher to match the arched eyebrow. “’Cos that’s a harsh welcome to Sandy Haven, man.” He pulls back, grinning wildly as he dodges the smack I aim at his forehead. “I swear we’re not all as intense as Scarr, here.”

“Shut up, Seb. No one asked for—”

“Some of us actually even smile sometimes,” Seb finishes, backing out of my reach.

And Dylan sort of reacts. I mean, not a smile. Never that. But he does a kind of double-nod thing.

“Hang tight for a sec, ’kay?” Seb glances up at the now green light, then back at me. “Can you pull over? I have something for you.”

He doesn’t even wait to see if I’m going to wait for him, and jogs back to his Jeep. I pull over on the wider stretch of road alongside the boardwalk, and Seb’s already back by the time I put the car in park. He crouches, stretching his arm inside the window, brandishing a Rusty Hook takeout cup. “Figure I owe you.”

I’m not sure if he’s referring to the milkshake he stole from me on Thursday evening or the fact that I provided round-the-clock damage control all weekend, while he was at his worst. Either way, a milkshake first thing in the morning is a rare and wonderful thing. I lean forward and peer inside the cup, then take the token peace offering.

“It’s mint chocolate chip,” Seb says.

“Well, I would freakin’ hope so.”

He laughs at that. None of my barbs ever come close to piercing his ego. Which is the way I like it. I’m snarky with Seb all the time, but I’d never want him to think I actually mean it.

I study my best friend more closely. He looks better than he did on the weekend, but still not back to his regular self. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks are more flushed than usual. Thankfully, I’m almost positive everything that went down this weekend gave him a harsh enough scare that he’s been jolted into opening up to Caroline. And I’m counting on Caroline to bring his parents up to speed now. Ironically, dorky wall-flower Caroline Heinz has way more backbone than I do. I never could bring myself to go against Seb’s wishes and tell his parents what’s been going on with him.

I take a sip of milkshake. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to go grovel to?”

“Already on it,” he says. “We talked last night… Kissed and made up. I’m officially forgiven.”

“You’re officially an idiot,” I tell him. “And a lucky bastard. I would have dumped your ass after the bullshit you pulled.” I take another long sip.

Seb has the good sense to look bashful, at least. “You want me to say you were right?” His eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline. Then he does an abbreviated version of a shrug, given the confined space. “You were right, Scarlett Thiels… I should have listened to you.”

“You should always listen to me.” I twist the milkshake into the cupholder. “Your general life skills are maybe a three out of ten. Mine are a solid nine.”

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