Nevermore (Crossbreed Series Book 6)
: Chapter 3

Two things lured me out of my slumber. The first was the faint smell of coffee. The second was Crush singing “Born to Be Wild.”

I sat up and rubbed my face. Morning light trickled in through the rectangular window behind my bed, revealing all the dust particles in the air that drifted about like the scattered remains of the life I’d left behind. It was disorienting at first to be staring at the four walls of my old bedroom. For a brief moment, I was fifteen again and late for school.

Then I remembered the fight with Christian.

After I got up and used the bathroom, I dragged myself down the hall and went to the kitchen for coffee.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” I said, interrupting his over-the-top performance.

Crush finished belting out the chorus and poured a cup of coffee from the pot before setting two Pop-Tarts on a small plate. “I tuned up your truck this morning and put new floor mats in. Jesus, girl. Take care of my baby, will ya?”

I yawned and noticed his white T-shirt had oil stains. “Why did you give your truck to me anyhow?”

“Christian said you were looking for a car, and I wanted you to have something I could personally guarantee was in tip-top condition.”

When I sat down at the table, my foot tapped against a giant sack on the floor. “What’s that?”

He set down my breakfast before lifting the bag and pulling out clothes. None of them were on hangers, and he piled them on the table in a heap. “I went by the thrift store and picked you up something to wear. They might be too loose. You look like a twig since I last bought clothes for you.”

“Are you saying I was a fat child?”

He playfully smacked my forehead. “Still full of sass. I don’t really know about underwear and all that womanly stuff, so if it doesn’t fit, you’ll have to buy your own. I still have the receipt.”

I took a bite of my strawberry-filled pastry. “You bought me panties at a thrift store?”

“I’d never be able to show my face in there again if I did. I got those at Walmart. Can we stop talking about panties?”

I crossed my legs and sipped my coffee. “Take a seat, Crush.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” The metal legs on the vinyl chair creaked when he sat down.

There had always been a rule about his name. Either I called him Daddy or Crush. He wouldn’t respond to anything else. Typically I’d only use his first name if I was either mad at him or wanted to have a serious chat. But right now neither applied. I just enjoyed being able to sit at a table with my father and shoot the breeze like two adults.

I picked at the pastry. “You did all that this morning? Went shopping and had time to tune up my wheels? What time did you wake up?”

He scratched his grey goatee and mustache. “Five. Couldn’t sleep much.”

I peered into the living room at the pullout sofa he used to sleep on when I lived at home. The pillow and blanket were still in place as if he’d just gotten up. “Why didn’t you open it up?”

“The bar in the middle broke.”

“I’m not even going to ask how.” I sipped more coffee. “Dating anyone?”

When I winked at him, Crush laughed, and he had one of those great belly laughs that said everything about what he was thinking.

Tattoos draped across his arms, and I studied the artwork, looking for new ink. A skeleton rode a bike on his left bicep, flames shooting out the sides. Below that, a banner with the name Cookie on it waved across a dagger. On his right bicep, a fierce bulldog with Semper Fi written below it. I could only see part of the tattoo on his inside forearm, a skull with roses in the eyes.

Then I studied the wolf on the outside of his right forearm. “I guess the mystery is finally solved on where that came from.”

He looked at it. “Maybe I just like wolves.”

“Whatever.”

Crush folded his arms on the table and stared at the clothes. “I don’t know what I’m gonna tell everyone.”

“Maybe we should make it a surprise party. I can pop out of a cake. You still have parties here, right?”

“When they told me you were dead, I didn’t invite anyone over for a long time. My buddies got concerned I might start drinking again, but I never did. You got that? I never fell off the wagon.”

I would have understood if he had, but I nodded and let him continue.

“It took a couple of years for me to feel normal again. And I never did feel all the way back to my old self. You were gone, and that was a colossal fucking hole in my universe. Ten times bigger than the one your mother left behind. You’re a part of me, and it was like going through an amputation of my soul. My buddies pulled me out of that dark place by coming around and shooting the breeze even if I wanted to be left alone. They were persistent sons of bitches, but they never left my side. Eventually things went back to normal, except even now I always get the look.”

I set down the pastry. “What look?”

“The look someone gives you when they know you’ve lost everything and don’t know what to say.”

The room got real quiet, the only sound from an airplane flying overhead.

“You shouldn’t smoke cigars in your bedroom,” I said, lightening the mood. “You’ll set the house on fire.”

A smile touched his lips. “I only light those up on rare occasions. I think I might enjoy a stogie at the next barbecue.”

Crush didn’t smoke cigarettes, but he was known to enjoy a cigar now and again. It was one of his few vices in life.

“What special occasion deserves a cigar in bed? Does it have something to do with how the sofa got broke?”

He stood up, the chair legs scraping against the floor. “I used to think I missed your sass, now I’m having second thoughts.” Crush glanced at his watch. “I have to swing by the shop and make sure they’ve got everything under control.”

“Workaholic. I thought you said your boys had it covered?” I grinned.

Crush was a control freak when it came to his business. He was the kind of guy who would probably never retire.

“I’m not staying all day. I just need to let them know I’m not coming in, so they can take over my duties.” He rumpled my hair before turning toward the hall. “You need anything while I’m out?”

“Don’t worry about me. I think I might take a trip to the store and buy some shoes. My sneakers have bloodstains on them.”

Truthfully, I planned to go grocery shopping. Crush didn’t know how to shop for himself and eat properly. Never had. I wasn’t much of a cook, but the man looked like he hadn’t seen a vegetable in seven years, so the least I could do was stock up his cabinets with nutritious foods that weren’t covered in icing.

Crush returned from the bedroom while zipping up a light jacket. “This weather can’t seem to make up its mind.” He grabbed my head and kissed it. “Be back soon. Leave your number on the table in case I get home before you do.”

After he shut the door, I stared at the clothes on the table. He’d clearly gone shopping for the young girl who left home, because I spied a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt in the pile. At least he got the right size jeans, and a pair of them even had holes, just the way I liked them.

For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. And I realized what made it feel safe was that I had immersed myself back in the human world again. A normal world where people didn’t get their heads lopped off and I didn’t have to carry weapons and constantly flare my light in public. A world where my greatest concern would be what to watch on TV.

Yep. I could get used to this.

After throwing on my not-so-new concert shirt and a pair of jeans, I hopped in my truck and swung by a shoe store to grab a pair of black boots. Sneakers were ideal for running, but I didn’t plan on doing any running, and every girl needs a good pair of leather shoes. Doesn’t matter if they’re heels or boots. Just something that says “I’m here to kick some ass and look sexy while doing it.”

Crush wasn’t much of a city guy. Even his trailer was nestled on the outskirts of town. He didn’t live near the rolling hills or have the pastoral view that we had at Keystone, but there was a lot of vacant land in the area. All the amenities he needed were within a short driving distance, including a supermarket. I had my suspicions that he cooked a lot of barbecue or purchased his meals at the gas station, so I decided to spend more than I normally would.

I bought just about everything I could fathom. Fruit, vegetables, canned foods, frozen foods, cashews, vitamins, granola bars, healthy cereal, juice, eggs—hell, I even bought his favorite cheap aftershave, which I hated.

The shopping cart clamored against the concrete when I pushed it past the automatic doors, and a light breeze ruffled my hair. It was probably in the upper fifties, but it felt like a slice of heaven after all the snow we’d had that winter.

A woman in fur-lined boots passed by me. “Good morning!”

My face beamed as I looked at her over my shoulder. “Morning!”

I faced forward and started talking to myself. “Look at me, walking around and doing normal stuff. Just going to the grocery store, buying ordinary things, no weapons strapped to my thighs, no dangerous assignments. Just pushing my cart and—Motherfucker!”

A motorcycle swerved, narrowly missing me. I was so busy staring daggers at the man that I’d lost sight of the fact that I’d let go of the cart, and my groceries were taking off without me.

The rider quickly parked in the fire lane and, helmet still on, stared at me for an uncomfortable beat before he took off after my cart.

I chased after him. “Get away from my groceries before I cut you up!”

The cart slammed into a silver car with a loud crash, and two bags flipped out, spilling groceries onto the ground.

The man knelt down, collecting oranges and bottles of flavored water. I did a quick check to make sure no one had seen what I’d done and then pushed the cart two spaces over to my truck.

I spun on my heel. “You should watch where you’re going. You almost killed me, you asshole.”

The man swaggered over and lowered the plastic sacks into the back of my truck. His heavy motorcycle boots had a lift on the sole, but he probably leveled off at around six feet tall.

The man pulled off his tinted helmet, long brown hair tumbling in front of his face. “I thought you were already dead.”

When he raked his hair back with his fingers, I stared at him for a hot minute. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t place it.

“It’s me… Switch. Don’t you remember? I took you to a dance once back in high school when some shithead stood you up. I guess I didn’t leave much of an impression.”

I jerked my head back. “Switch?”

“Yeah. You make it sound like I grew a second head since you last saw me. Not what you expected?”

My mind hit rewind and went back to childhood. I remembered Switch as a charismatic, good-looking kid. A little on the lean side, but he’d always had toned biceps to show off the huge tattoo on his left arm. He was three years older and out of my league. Some guys just had that indefinable thing that made them cool, and Switch had it from head to toe. I hadn’t known him very well since we didn’t go to school together and I only saw him at the occasional party or barbecue, but his father and mine were old friends.

Could this really be him? His shoulders were too broad, and the whiskers around his chin and mouth in a circle beard made it difficult to compare him to that young boy.

He frowned and gripped his helmet between his knees before taking off the long-sleeve shirt he wore over his T-shirt. Switch pivoted, showing me the tattoo of the giant owl and clock on his left arm. “Proof enough? I should be the one asking for evidence that you’re the real deal, because last I heard, you were dead.”

“Maybe I’m a ghost.”

“Good to know credit cards still work in the afterlife.” He held his helmet with one hand and centered his eyes on mine. “No, it’s definitely you. No one else has those eyes. One blue, one brown, and both sad.”

I couldn’t get over the change. Switch had grown into a man. He still had those wolfish eyebrows and prominent brow bone that made his eyes look fierce and predatory. And the more I studied his behavior, the more I realized that Switch was a wolf. No doubt about it. Shifters have common traits that you can sometimes spot even when they’re in human form. The way they tilt their head or shift their eyes, or sometimes the way they react to people around them. I was willing to bet that if I turned my back and showed him my ass, he’d wag his invisible little tail.

“I noticed Crush’s truck in the parking lot and thought I’d swing by and say hi.” He dragged his eyes up and down the length of my body and gave me a winsome smile. “Crush’s little girl, all grown up.”

I grabbed a few sacks and set them inside the truck.

Switch didn’t say a word. He just kept his eyes on me as he helped me load the groceries in the back, and his gaze was hot. So hot that my cheeks flushed and the little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

“Since you won’t tell me how it is that you’re alive, maybe you can tell me why you’re riding around in his pickup,” he said, setting the last bag inside the truck bed.

“It’s mine now. I bought it. I’m staying with him for a little while, but don’t tell anyone.”

He put on his tinted helmet and lifted the face shield while buckling the chin strap. “I’ll meet you back at his place.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

Switch strutted back to his bike—which was still parked in the fire lane—and got on. After he started up the engine, he sat there, just looking in my direction and revving the engine.

Cursing under my breath, I shoved the cart into the return bin. There was obviously no talking him out of it, and I had to get the ice cream home before it melted.

So much for my fantasy of an uneventful, normal life.

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