CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kalen
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I roll my shoulders as I walk around the block.
Hailey spoke to Luna.
What the fuck could she possibly have to say to a stranger that she can’t say to her own kids?
I’m used to being lesser than her beloved Luke, but this is a totally new blow that I didn’t know I’d have to deal with.
Especially not from the girl I want nothing more than to touch.
I sigh as I run a hand down my face, then turn on my heel and start back toward home.
If Dalton needs milk that fucking bad, he can get it himself tomorrow morning. Besides, there has to be a better reason for him wanting to get me out of the house, and I have to figure out what.
Is he in love with Luna too?
Love.
The most horrible thing that I could ever imagine happening to me, especially since I’ve never had a chance to really experience it. Something that seems so goddamn wicked and vile, that the mere thought of it sends a cold shiver down my spine.
I don’t know if it’s something I should be afraid of, but I know that if it’s anything like what Hailey has shown us, then it’s definitely not for me.
And I won’t let my brother fall prey to it either.
I take a deep breath as I decide that the best way to go about coming home empty-handed is to stay outside for a bit. To make it seem like I actually put effort into going to get his goddamn milk when I did nothing of the sort.
I walk down the side of the house and almost make it to the kitchen window when I hear something out front that grabs my attention.
A vehicle door opening and closing, a ragged cough, and a heavy sigh following soon after.
The cacophony of the footsteps as they start to approach is what stops me.
It’s almost as if this unwanted visitor is heading straight for the front door of our home.
How many fucking ads did he put out there? I wonder irritably as I quickly make my way toward the front lawn.
I don’t want Dalton to get any ideas about a possible second babysitter, so I know that I have to stop this new person before they reach the door.
“Can I help you?” I call out in a quiet, even tone as I come around the side of the house.
A tall man in a dark, denim jacket, with black hair streaked in gray stops walking. He coughs again as he turns his face to peer toward me and I notice that his black beard also has gray in it.
But... his eyes.
They’re so goddamn severe and stern that I have to fight the natural urge to shrink back beneath the weight of them.
The longer we stand there staring at each other, the more I wonder if I should have just stayed hidden in the shadows. He strikes me as the kind of person who would easily backhand me for saying the wrong thing.
Or anything at all.
“So. Can I?” I repeat, a slight tremor to my tone.
“No,” he grinds out before he coughs again.