10
Dillon let me go home, though I could tell he wasn’t satisfied with my story. The guy had good instincts. I’ll bet his son didn’t get away with a thing. Home again, Mike accompanied me inside, met Rosemary, attraction arced and formed a weld between them, in like five seconds. I was too tired to care that Rosemary was going to get my goodnight kiss. My mother had retired to her bed, so I didn’t have to explain how it was I’d come to trip over a dead body outside a sleazy restaurant. The only nightmare I didn’t have was the one where I didn’t do my biology homework—or I woke up too soon. When I stumbled down the stairs the next morning, feeling like old road kill, I found Rosemary preparing to go out wearing designer jeans and a bulky sweater, with guilt as an accessory.
Careful not to
