Free The Dead and Buried by Kim Harrington Page B

in this town has money … and you live in a big house.”
    “A house we could only afford because it had been heavily discounted due to its macabre history,” I said. A house I was purposefully avoiding because a vengeful ghost had trashed my room.
    “What I’m trying to say is that I understand.” He paused. “I have no car. I have no house . Ellie and I live in an apartment with my mom. No father. No money. The apartment is already more than Mom can afford, but she insists we live in this town because the schools are so good. All she cares about is our education. So we can break out and have a better life than she did.”
    I stopped the car at a red light and he slid me a look. “So it’s nice to finally come across someone who might understand a little bit of that.”
    My mouth twitched. First I’d pegged him as a dumb jock, then a typical Woodbridge rich kid. “Sorry. I seem to jump to all the wrong conclusions about you. Again and again.”
    “It’s okay.” He gave me a light jab in the side. “But if you don’t turn left here, you’re going to miss my road.”
    I’d been so busy being defensive I hadn’t even asked him where he lived. I tightened my now-sweaty hands on thesteering wheel. I thought about reciprocating. Telling him that my family wasn’t so picture-perfect, either. But that would involve talking about my mother. And I couldn’t do that.
    Of course everyone back home knew about my mother’s death. But here, no one did. First off, it didn’t just come up in conversation in a natural way. “Hey, my mom’s dead. What are you up to tonight?” And second, I hated when it had come up in the past. People always saw me differently, after. They got this patented painfully concerned, pitying look on their faces. And I knew I wasn’t Jade Kelley anymore. I was the girl whose mother had died. And I didn’t want to be defined by that here like I’d been at home.
    Kane gave directions along the way and I followed, lost in my thoughts, almost on autopilot. As I reached his apartment complex, I slowed. He pointed toward his door and my eyes were drawn to the defined muscles in his forearm. Then up to the blond stubble on his neck and chin. The masculine angles and edges to his face. I could see why the girls went crazy for him.
    “Thanks for the ride,” he said.
    “No problem. I’m sorry again about all the misunderstandings.”
    “Forget it.” He opened the car door and stuck one leg out, then stopped. “Has anyone shown you around town yet?”
    “Not unless my dad counts.”
    “Does your dad know where to get the best Boston cream pie? Or which pizza place is open the latest?”
    “He does not possess this secret and useful knowledge,” I said, smiling.
    “How about I show you around some night next weekend? I can use my mom’s car.” He stopped, worry creasing his face. “Oh wait, I don’t mean like —”
    “Not in a fresh meat way,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’d love to see the sights.”
    “Great! Saturday night, then. See you in school.”
    He grabbed his equipment bag from the trunk and cast one last wave over his shoulder. I watched as he strode up to the door, this gorgeous, nice, charming guy, who defied all my assumptions.
    And I wondered why, instead of feeling delight at the idea of spending time with him, my thoughts kept returning to a broken boy.

I took 28 to a party at the clearing tonight and, of course, it made waves. 7 was giving him dirty looks all night. 14 was relieved. (Not that it will help her case any.)
    I knew what everyone was thinking. Why him? She could have anyone and instead of someone approved — someone “in” — she plucks this guy out of obscurity.
    I’ll tell ya, at first it was just the idea of being unpredictable. Plus those eyes. God! Those eyes could bring about world peace. But now … it’s more than that. I’m surprised. I might keep him longer than I’d planned. I … like him. A lot.
    28 isn’t like the other guys,