“I cupped my hands over my ears. “No, no, no. Get out. Get dead.”

Devon Monk

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“Greyson is gone.” A high-pitched ringing started in my ears. “Dead?” I asked, not at all ashamed at the tiny bit of hope that leaked into my voice. “No. Escaped. He’ll be hunting you.” With that as the option, I liked dead better.”


“Since I didn't have a spork handy, I leaned over the sink and scooped up a palmful of cold water and pressed it against my face. There had to be a better option than a violent sporking. There had to be a way to get rid of my dad.”


“We’re a lot alike that way. You know I never back down from a challenge.” He reached over, brushed my hair back, and tucked it behind my ear. “Not the safest way to go through life.” “Maybe not. But it’s my way.”


“I wouldn’t want you to get in the shower and then pass out or some such. How about if I help you get out of your clothes? I’m an expert in platonic undressings.” He gave me that wicked smile. “Give it a rest. I’m not going to strip naked in front of you, and I’d rather pee in private.” “Half the injuries in a home happen in the bathroom. What kind of friend would I be to let you face that kind of danger alone? I mean, sure, you walked out of death, but this is a shower.” “Shame. Get out of my bathroom.”


“What part of you is dead, my daughter?”I didn’t know—my sense of humor maybe?”


“Shamus ordered half a cup of house brew. Then he proceeded to fill the cup up the rest of the way with milk and sugar. Lots of sugar. “Sure you got enough milk in your sugar?” I asked as we strolled out of the shop and headed south. He flipped me off. “You drink your coffee your way, and I’ll drink my coffee the right way.”