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Read on for a preview of the first book in the series, Born at Midnight
Chapter One
“This isn’t funny!” her father yelled.
No, it wasn’t, Kylie Galen thought as she leaned into the refrigerator to find something to drink. In fact, it was so not funny she wished she could crawl in beside the mustard and moldy hotdogs, shut the door, and not hear the angry voices spewing from the living room.
Her parents were at it again.
Not that it would go on much longer, she thought as the mist of the fridge seeped out the door.
Today was the day.
Kylie’s throat tightened. She swallowed a lump of raw emotion and refused to cry.
Today had to be the suckiest day of her life. And she’d had some pretty sucky days lately, too. Acquiring a stalker, Trey breaking up with her, and her parents announcing their divorce — yup, sucky pretty much covered it. It was no wonder her night terrors had returned full force.
“What have you done with my underwear?” Her father’s growl spilled into the kitchen, snuck under the refrigerator door and bounced around the moldy hotdogs.
His underwear? Kylie pressed a cold diet soda can to her forehead.
“Why would I do anything with your underwear?” her mother asked in her oh-so nonchalant voice. That was her mom alright, nonchalant. Cold as ice.
Kylie’s gaze shot out the kitchen window to the patio where she’d seen her mom earlier. There, a pair of her dad’s tighty-whities dangled half out of the smoldering grill.
Just great. Her mother had barbequed her father’s shorts. That’s it. Kylie was never eating anything cooked on that grill again.
Fighting tears, she shoved the diet soda back on the rack, shut the fridge, and moved into the doorway. Maybe if they saw her, they’d stop acting like juveniles and let her be the kid again.
Her dad stood in the middle of the room, a pair of underwear clutched in his fist. Her mom sat on the sofa, calmly sipping hot tea.
“You need psychological help,” her father yelled at her mom.
Two points for her dad, Kylie thought. Her mom did need help. So why was Kylie the one who had to sit on a shrink’s sofa two days a week?
Why was her dad—the man everyone swore Kylie had wrapped around her little finger—going to move out today, and leave her behind?
She didn’t blame her dad for wanting to leave her mom, AKA the Ice Queen. But why wasn’t he taking Kylie with him? Another lump rose in her throat.
Dad swung around and saw her, then shot back into the bedroom, obviously to pack the rest of his things—minus his underwear, which at this moment sent up smoke signals from the backyard grill.
Kylie stood there, staring at her mom, who sat reading over work files as if it was any other day.
The framed photographs of Kylie and her father that hung over the sofa caught her attention and tears stung her eyes. The pictures had been taken on their annual father and daughter trips.
“You’ve got to do something,” Kylie pleaded.
“Do what?” her mom asked.
“Change his mind. Tell him you’re sorry you grilled his shorts.” That you’re sorry you’ve got ice water running through your veins. “I don’t give a flip what you do, just don’t let him go.”
“You don’t understand.” And just like that, her mom, void of any emotion, shifted her attention back to her papers.
Right then, her dad, suitcase in his hand, shot through the living room. Kylie went after him and followed him out the door into Houston’s stifling afternoon heat.
“Take me with you,” she begged, not caring if he saw her tears. Maybe the tears would help. There’d been a time when crying got her whatever she wanted from him. “I don’t eat much,” she sniffled, giving humor a shot.
He shook his head but, unlike her mom, at least he had emotion in his eyes. “You don’t understand.”
You don’t understand. “Why do y’all always say that? I’m sixteen years old. If I don’t understand, then explain it to me. Tell me the big secret and get it over with.”
He stared down at his feet as if this was a test and he’d penned the answers on the toes of his shoes. Sighing, he looked up. “Your mom . . . she needs you.”
“Needs me? Are you kidding? She doesn’t even want me.” And neither do you. The realization caused Kylie’s breath to catch in her lungs. He really didn’t want her.