"That you and John have hooked up."
Kylie considered lying. The thought that it would hurt him appealed to her. It appealed to her so much that it reminded her of the stupid games her parents played lately. Oh, no, she would not stoop to their "grown-up" level.
"I haven't hooked up with anyone." She turned to leave.
He caught her. His touch, the feel of his warm hand on her elbow, sent waves of pain right to her heart. And standing this close, his clean, masculine scent fil ed her airways. Oh God, she loved his smel .
"I heard about your grandma," he said. "And Sara told me about your parents getting a divorce. I'm so sorry, Kylie."
Tears threatened to crawl up her throat. Kylie was seconds away from fal ing against his warm chest and begging him to hold her. Nothing ever felt better than Trey's arms around her, but then she saw the girl, Trey's screw toy, walk outside, carrying two beers. In less than five minutes, Trey would be trying to get in her panties. And from the too-low-cut blouse and too-short skirt the girl wore, it appeared he wouldn't have to try too hard.
"Thanks," Kylie muttered, and went to join Sara. Luckily, Soldier Dude had decided margaritas weren't his thing after al and left.
"Here." Sara took the beer from Kylie's hand and replaced it with a margarita.
The frosty glass felt unnatural y cold. Kylie leaned in and whispered, "Did you see a strange guy here a minute ago? Dressed in some funky army outfit?"
Sara's eyebrows did their wild, wiggly thing. "How much of that beer did you drink?" Her laughter fil ed the night air. Kylie wrapped her hands tighter around the cold glass, worried she seriously might be losing her mind. Adding alcohol to the situation didn't seem like a good idea.
An hour later, when three Houston cops walked into the backyard and had everyone line up at the back gate, Kylie stil had the same untouched margarita clutched in her hands.
"Come on, kids," one of the cops said. "The sooner we move you to the precinct, the sooner we can get your parents to come get you." That was when Kylie knew for certain that her life real y had been toilet-bound-and someone had just flushed.
* * *
"Where's Dad?" Kylie asked her mom when she stepped into the room at the police station. "I cal ed Dad."
I'm a phone call away, Pumpkin. Hadn't he told her that? So why wasn't he here to get Pumpkin?
Her mom's green eyes tightened. "He cal ed me."
"I wanted Dad," Kylie insisted. No, she needed her dad, she thought, and her vision clouded with tears. She needed a hug, needed someone who would understand.
"You don't get what you want, especial y when ... my God, Kylie, how could you do this?"
Kylie swiped the tears from her face. "I didn't do anything. Didn't they tel you? I walked a straight line. Touched my nose and even said my ABCs backwards. I didn't do anything."
"They found drugs there," her mother snapped.
"I wasn't doing drugs."
"But do you know what they didn't find there, young lady?" Her mother pointed a finger at her. "Any parents. You lied to me."
"Maybe I'm just too much like you," Kylie said, stil reeling at the thought that her dad hadn't shown up. He'd known how upset she'd been. Why hadn't he come?
"What does that mean, Kylie?"
"You told dad you didn't know what happened to his underwear. But you'd just flame-broiled his shorts on the gril ."
Guilt fil ed her mother's eyes and she shook her head. "Dr. Day is right."
"What does my shrink have to do with tonight?" Kylie asked. "Don't tel me you cal ed her. God, Mom, if you dare bring her down here where al my friends-"
"No, she's not here. But it's not just about tonight." She inhaled. "I can't do this alone."
"Do what alone?" Kylie asked, and she got this bad feeling in her stomach.
"I'm signing you up for a summer camp."