Soul Screamers, Volume 1

Or not.

Nash squeezed my hand and followed me into the living room, where my father’s silhouette leaned forward in the lumpy armchair, outlined by what little light penetrated the curtains from the street lamp outside. I stood in the middle of the floor, staring at the dark spot where his eyes would be, Nash’s chest pressed against my back. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

A shadow-arm reached up and to the left. The floor lamp clicked and light flooded the room. My dad still wore the flannel shirt he’d worked in, and his eyes were red from exhaustion. “Why are you an hour and a half late?”

Technically, it was only an hour and twenty-four minutes, but he looked even less eager to be corrected than I was to discuss my whereabouts.

“It’s not even midnight.” I tugged Nash forward and he took that as his signal to intervene, though that wasn’t what I’d intended.

“Sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh. We didn’t realize it was so la—”

“Go home, Nash.” A muscle jumped along the line of my father’s jaw. “Your mom’s waiting for you, too.”

Nash’s eyebrows rose, and he frowned. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Kaylee,” he said, already turning toward the front door with my hand still clasped in his, our arms stretched between us.

“That remains to be seen,” my dad snapped.

I grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. “You gonna ground me from school?”

He was un-amused. “Good night, Nash.”

“I have to drive him.” I probably should have taken him home first, but I was hoping my dad would be asleep and we could discuss our next move, in light of that evening’s failure. I dug my keys from my pocket and turned to follow Nash, but he shook his head with one look at my dad.

“I’ll walk. It’s only a few blocks.” As the door closed behind him, I suddenly wished we didn’t live so close together.

“Where were you?” my dad asked as I sank onto the couch on his left. “And before you start, I know you didn’t work tonight, and you clearly weren’t with Emma.”

Great. “It’s not whatever you’re thinking.” I could virtually guarantee that. But I couldn’t tell him where I’d really been, because he’d like that even less than the thought that I was out drinking, smoking, or sleeping with Nash.

“Then where were you?” He crossed both arms over his chest, and I thought I saw his irises swirl just a little, though that might have been the flicker of a passing headlight on his eyes.

“Out driving.” Mostly.

When he leaned forward to peer into my eyes, I realized his irises really were swirling. Weird. He usually had better control over his emotions…

“Is Nash going to be a problem?” My dad’s voice was deep and rough. Worried.

I fiddled with a frayed spot of denim over my knee. “Why would he be?”

He closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened, his face held a new resolve and the colors in his irises had stopped moving. He’d regained control over…something. Something I didn’t understand and he didn’t seem ready to explain. “Kaylee, I know you like him, and I know he’s…not a bad kid. And we all know he was there for you when I wasn’t, and I’m sorrier about that than I could ever explain. But I don’t want you to…”

He hesitated and rubbed his forehead, then started over. “It isn’t a good idea for you to get too involved with him. You’re so young, and… Damn, I wish your mother was here to explain this....”

Sudden understanding flooded me and blood rushed to my cheeks. “Dad, is this about sex?”

That time he blushed, and I almost felt sorry for him. Full-time parenthood was new for him, and we were still feeling our way around in some areas. Like curfews, and apparently that mortifying after-school-special talk.

“It’s not just about sex....”

“Okay, please stop.” I held up both hands, palms out, and rolled my eyes. “This is just weird—”

“Kaylee…”

“—and it’s really none of your business—” I gestured with one arm.

He stood, frowning down at me. “This most certainly is my business—”

“—and I don’t need you stepping in to tell me what I can and can’t do!” I stood to put us on equal ground.

“That’s my job.” His mouth quirked up in an ironic smile, but I refused to see the humor.

“Well, you’re not very good at it!”

His smile collapsed, and his eyes swirled slowly. Sadly.

I felt guilty immediately. He was trying so hard. “I didn’t mean it like that.”