Page 62 of American Hellhound
“I want to stop failing to live up to everyone’s expectations. That’s what I want,” she shot back.
He stared at her, nonplussed. “You really think the best way to do that is toruin your life?”
“I said reputation, not life.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Says the outlaw.”
He sighed. “So what’s your big plan? Get some compromising photos of us and wave ‘em in front of your mom?”
The idea sent a hard shiver down her back. “Maybe.”
He gave her the eyebrow again. “You understand I’d get arrested for that, right?”
Well, shit.
“And bad shit happens to pedophiles on the inside.”
An offended noise built in her throat. “Pedophile? Do I look like a child to you?”
“Doesn’t matter.” His eyes swept her head to toe. “It’d still be statutory.”
“Only if you’re more than four years older.”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
That knowledge shouldn’t have turned her on – she was miffed about the P word – but it did.
“Okay…” she said, as her nefarious plan came unraveled on the cool pavement between them.
Ghost opened his mouth to say something else and they were interrupted by a shout from a window above.
“Hey, Ghost!” A thin redhead in an oversized sweatshirt was leaning out the window above Ghost’s kitchen sink. “I gotta get home.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Bring Aidan down with you on your way out.”
She nodded and retreated, shutting the window with an efficient slam.
“My babysitter,” Ghost explained.
Which meant this conversation was over for the time being. Maggie stepped back and put some space between them, just on principle. With that space came the thoughtwhat am I doing?
A few minutes later, the redhead emerged onto the sidewalk, Aidan following along behind her.
“Thanks, Rita,” Ghost told the girl, and she nodded.
“Bye, dude.” She patted Aidan once on top of the head and then headed off toward her car, giant keyring jingling.
Maggie’s feelings toward Ghost were a confusing tangle of want, and fear, and doubt, but there was nothing confusing about the sensation in her chest as she watched the man turn toward his son, his face softening with heartbreak and regret. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything as sweet, or as tragic, as these two Teague boys.
“Hi, buddy,” Ghost greeted, voice full of uncharacteristic hesitance. “You have a good day? How you feeling?” He cupped his hand against Aidan’s forehead to check for a fever.
“I’m good.” Aidan wiped his nose with the sleeve of his Spider-Man sweatshirt. “Mrs. Allison showed us a video about snails.” He made a face that was part-disgust, part-delight. “And Rita let me have Cheetos.”
“That’s good.” Ghost petted his hair, running his fingers through the dark curls with something like longing on his face. “I’m glad.”
Then Aidan turned and spotted Maggie.
