Page 5 of Even in the Dark

Phil takes a step inside. “That’s fine, sweetheart, but you can’t climb all over him. Just… please, back up a bit, alright?”

Dylan visibly relaxes when Kenz drops her hand. Phil waits. Hovering, again. Watching as Kenz sighs, “Fiiiiine…” then climbs off the couch. She grabs Sadie’s hand and drags her towards the patio doors. “Let’s go play in the treehouse ’till dinner’s ready.”

Phil stays in the doorway as the girls both scramble from the seating area, dashing past him to the deck, then down to the sloping lawn beyond. “You okay in here?” he asks, concerned focus still on his son.

“Yup,” Dylan cracks each knuckle on his left hand and the popping sound makes me cringe.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.” He does that thing again, where he pokes at his lip ring with the tip of his tongue. It’s ridiculously sexy.

I hate it.

Phil nods, then smiles at him. Then at me. “Burgers will be ready in a few,” he says, before closing the glass door almost reluctantly, and making his way back to the outdoor kitchen area.

“So?” I arch an eyebrow at Dylan. “Has he been hovering this much when it’s just your family?” It’s totally understandable. But still, weird. Probably even weirder for Dylan.

He shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“So ‘yes’, then.” I offer him a brief smile, which he doesn't return. And we sit in silence for a good few seconds after that, with the sound of mom and Diane chatting in the background, setting down dishes and gathering cutlery.

“I swear these dinners aren’t normally this deadly,” I finally say. “With all the exhausting small-talk and everything…” I roll my eyes. “So, yeah, if you need a break from it, I can just shut up.” I take a sip of Coke as he stares on stoically. “Or I can keep babbling. I’m easy.”

“It’s fine,” he says again. “I can do this all night.”

Okaaay… Was that a joke? Or was he being serious? Also, is being nice always this hard?

I forge on. "Is there anything you want to know? About Sandy Haven? Or about school?”

He swallows, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing against the smooth skin of his throat. He’s the kind of guy whose facial hair probably won’t come in until he’s in his early twenties, at least. “Sure,” he utters, his tone coarse and dark as slate.

God. It’s like pulling freakin’ teeth with this guy. “Anything specific?”

“Just whatever.”

“Alright. Sounds like a challenge.”

“Sounds like a boring night,” he counters, leaning forward.

What a dick.

His tongue glides not just across the lip ring this time, but across his full lower lip. “Going to the bathroom,” he mutters, rising from the plush couch.

“I thought you said you could do this all night,” I shoot back.

He doesn’t falter; just keeps unfolding his tall frame from the cushions. A stray lock of hair escapes whatever it is he’s used as a hair-tie, and it falls across his tanned forehead. “Guess I lied,” he says cooly, throwing me a dismissive glance before striding past the coffee table, towards the hallway. He moves like a panther: smooth and graceful and intimidating. He isn’t nearly as jacked as most of the guys on the football team, and yet he’s way more imposing. He looks infallible.

A gliding noise across the room steals my attention, and I look up in time to see Phil hovering in the narrow opening again.

“Everything alright?” His eyes lock on Dylan’s retreating form, wrinkles creasing his brow.

Dylan keeps walking. “Just going to the bathroom,” he says evenly, barely turning his head. He doesn’t seem angry or upset or anything. Just stone-cold still. Like the water in nearby Allerston Lake on a crisp winter morning. He doesn’t even glance back at me, which pisses me off even more.

I’m not used to having absolutely no effect on a guy, and it makes me uneasy. It makes me feel like I’m not the one in control. And that’s not something I’m okay with.

Chapter Three

Scarlett

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