Soul Screamers, Volume 1

He knew where I lived? I must have looked suspicious, because he rushed to explain. “I gave your sister a ride once. Last month.”


My jaw tightened, and I felt my expression darken. “She’s my cousin.” Nash had given Sophie a ride? Please don’t let that be a euphemism…

He frowned and shook his head in answer to my unspoken question. “Scott Carter asked me to give her a lift.”

Oh. Good. I nodded, and he shrugged. “So you want me to take you guys home?” He held his hand out for my keys.

“That’s okay, I’m good to drive.” And I wasn’t in the habit of letting people I barely knew behind the wheel of my car. Especially really hot guys who—rumor had it—had gotten two speeding tickets in his ex’s Firebird.

Nash flashed a deep set of stubbly dimples and shrugged. “Then can I have a lift? I rode with Carter, and he won’t be ready to go for hours.”

My pulse jumped into my throat. Was he leaving early just so he could ride with me? Or had I ruined his evening with my freak-tastic hysterics?

“Um…yeah.” My car was a mess, but it was too late to worry about that. “But you’ll have to flip Emma for shotgun.”

Fortunately, that turned out to be unnecessary. Em took the back, shooting me a meaningful glance and pointing at Nash as she slid across the seat, swiping a corn-chip bag onto the floor. I dropped her off first, a full hour and a half before her curfew, which had to be some kind of record.

As I pulled out of Emma’s driveway, Nash twisted in the passenger seat to face me, his expression somber, and my heart beat so hard it almost hurt. It was time for the easy letdown. He was too cool to say it in front of Emma, and even with her gone, he’d probably be really nice about it. But the bottom line was the same; he wasn’t interested in me. At least, not after my public meltdown.

“So you’ve had these panic attacks before?”

What? My hands clenched the wheel in surprise as I took a left at the end of the street.

“A couple of times.” Half a dozen, at least. I couldn’t purge suspicion from my voice. My “issues” should have driven him screaming into the night, and instead he wanted details? Why?

“Do your parents know?”

I shifted in my seat, as if a new position might make me more comfortable with the question. But it would take much more than that. “My mom died when I was little, and my dad couldn’t handle me on his own. He moved to Ireland, and I’ve been with my aunt and uncle ever since.”

Nash blinked and nodded for me to go on. He gave me none of the awkward sympathy or compulsive, I’m-not-sure-what-to-say throat-clearing I usually got when people found out I’d been half-orphaned, then wholly abandoned. I liked him for that, even if I didn’t like where his questions were heading.

“So your aunt and uncle know?”

Yeah. They think I’m one egg shy of a dozen. But the truth hurt too much to say out loud.

I turned to see him watching me closely, and my suspicion flared again, settling to burn deep in my gut. Why did he care what my family knew about my not-so-private misery? Unless he was planning to laugh with his friends later about what a freak I was.

But his interest didn’t seem malicious. Especially considering what he’d done for me at Taboo. So maybe his curiosity was feigned, and he was after something else to tell his friends about. Something girls rarely denied him, if the rumors were true.

If he didn’t get it, would he tell the entire school my darkest, most painful secret?

No. My stomach pitched at the thought, and I hit the brake too hard as we came to a stop sign.

My foot still wedged against the brake, I glanced in the rearview mirror at the empty street behind me, then shifted into Park and turned to face Nash, steeling my nerve for the question to come. “What do you want from me?” I spat it out before I could change my mind.

Nash’s eyes widened in surprise, and he sat back hard against the passenger’s side door, as if I’d shoved him. “I just… Nothing.”

“You want nothing?” I wanted to see the deep greens and browns of his irises, but the beam from the nearest streetlight didn’t reach my car, so only the dim light from my dashboard shone on him, and it wasn’t enough to illuminate his face. To let me truly read his expression. “I can count the number of times we’ve really spoken before tonight on one hand.” I held that hand up for emphasis. “Then you come out of nowhere and play white knight to my distressed damsel, and I’m supposed to believe you want nothing in return? Nothing to tell your friends about on Monday?”

He tried to laugh, but the sound was stilted, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. Rumor has it you’ve conquered more territory than Genghis Khan.”

A single dark brow rose in the shadows, challenging me. “You believe everything you hear?”

My eyebrow shot up to mirror his. “You denyin’ it?”