Free Thin White Line by J.A. Templeton, Julia Templeton Page B

furious.
    “I’m okay.”
    “You should probably rehydrate. Plus, trust me, they’ll be awhile.” His lips curve. “I know the drill.”
    “Brooke, I’m going to go inside for a minute,” I tell her and I think her slight chin lift is an acknowledgement. I’m sure she’ll let me know if she needs me.
    I follow into the house behind Deklan. Staring at his back, I realize just how broad his shoulders are and how narrow his waist is, not to mention how high and tight his butt is.
    I pull my gaze away and, thankfully, it’s just before he glances over his shoulder at me.
    The compact kitchen holds a small, chrome dinette with modern, red vinyl, padded stools in the far corner. “Have a seat,” Deklan tells me, opening up the fridge.  “Water, soda or fruit juice?”
    Although the nausea is better, my stomach rebels at the thought of putting anything in it, but I know Deklan won’t take no for an answer. “Water.”
    He sets the bottled water in front of me and sits down beside me.
    “I had fun last night,” I say, sitting up straighter. “You must have the world’s nicest neighbors to put up with all the noise.”
    “They put up with us because they have to.” He smiles, but the grin fades as he looks at me. “How can you and Brooke be related?” he asks, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a sip. He makes even drinking water sexy.
    I laugh. “Yeah, I know, right? Believe it or not, we used to have a lot in common.”
    He sets the water down and picks at the label. “I know you’re going through a rough time right now. I just don’t want to see you get swallowed up in a lifestyle that can be kind of brutal.”
    The humor has completely left his gaze and I’m reminded of last night when everyone had gone into panic mode when he came knocking at Curtis’s door. I shrug. “Life is brutal.”
    His dark brows lift. “True. I know what it’s like to go through a divorce. My mom left me and my dad for a guy she worked with. I was ten-years-old and one day she was just...gone with a note to my father saying she was sorry and that she couldn’t do it anymore. She said that she knew he could take care of me.” He shakes his head. “He could barely take care of himself. I ended up moving in with Ryder and his family when I was fourteen.”
    I didn’t realize he’d had it so tough. He flashes a smile and chews on his lip ring. For the first time, I’m seeing Deklan look vulnerable and uncomfortable.
    “When did you start tattooing?”
    “Believe it or not, I did my first tattoo at thirteen. My dad had this friend who was a tattoo artist—mostly prison tattoos, but still—he was really talented and taught me a lot about the art form. My dad did a few tattoos in his time, too.”
    “Where is your dad now?”
    “Gone.” He sits back against the chair and takes a deep breath. “Anyway, I just don’t want to see you go down the wrong road, you know?”
    I guess that was his signal that we are officially finished talking about his personal life.
    “I appreciate that.” I really did appreciate the concern, but I am having fun and just because I did drugs once, doesn’t mean I’m going to do them again.
    The door opens. “Kenzie, let’s go!” Brooke sounds impatient and pissed off. Apparently, she isn’t buying Curtis’s story about blondie.
    “That’s my cue,” I say, coming to my feet.
    Deklan stands and hands me the water.
    We walk out to the car in silence. Curtis sits in a chair on the porch, elbows on his knees and face in hands.
    Deklan joins him, puts a hand on Curtis’s shoulder and squeezes.
    “Brooke…” Curtis says, his frustration evident as he looks up at her.
    “Don’t fucking talk to me.” She walks right past him.
    Curtis casts her a pleading glance.
    In the car, I buckle my seatbelt and don’t dare look back at the house.
    Brooke starts the car, puts it in drive, and burns the tires as she pulls out onto the road; her hands gripping the steering wheel.