Sweet Dandelion

Chapter Twenty-Four

“What are you wearing?” Sage regards me with curiosity as I enter the living area.

I look down at my fitted black tank top, leather jacket, and ripped skinny jeans. My exposed collarbone, neck, and face are speckled with droplets of blood. There are more on my arms, but since they’re currently covered he can’t see that. I hold a cereal box in one hand and a plastic kitchen knife in the other.

“A costume.”

“That’s not a costume.” He snorts, looking me up and down, his brows furrow as he tries to figure out exactly what I am.

“Yes, it is,” I defend, feeling a little crestfallen that it isn’t obvious. “I’m a cereal killer.”

His eyes light with recognition, mouth parting. “Oh, I see now.”

I roll my eyes and pull out my phone to see the text that has come in. “It’s Ansel. He’s here. Should I tell him to come up for an interrogation?” I arch a brow, my tone joking but also serious because I won’t put it past Sage to give him the third-degree again.

“No, go on ahead.”

He stands up from the couch where he’d been watching a football game and grabs his wallet off the counter. “Here, take this.” He slaps a couple of twenties fresh from an ATM into my hand.

“I don’t need your money, Sage. It’s a party.”

“Take it,” he insists, closing my hand around it. He senses I’m going to complain so he guilts me into taking it by saying, “It’ll give me peace of mind.”

“Fine.” I put the money in my pocket. Probably not the safest place, but it’ll have to do.

“Be careful,” he warns, eyes stern. “Don’t take a drink from anyone, even someone you know. Okay?”

I nod. “I’ll be fine, Sage.”

I kind of wish now I hadn’t mentioned the party to him.

“If you drink too much and want me to get you, I will. Doesn’t matter the time.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

The look in his eyes tells me he does and to stop arguing with him. “Let me know when you get to Sasha’s.”

I hug him. “Stop fretting, Momma Bear.” My voice is muffled against the fabric of his green Henley.

He chuckles softly, squeezing tight. “I have to.”

He releases me, gives me one last warning, and I’m finally on my way down to the main floor to meet up with Ansel outside.

“What took you so long?” he asks when I slide into the car.

“My brother worries.”

Ansel’s lips pinch, not in disdain but understanding. Now that he knows what happened he sees why my brother is insanely overprotective.

“Where’s the party at?” I pull the seatbelt across my body and buckle it before he pulls away.

“Chuck’s.” At my blank look he adds, “His parents are out of town this weekend.”

I bob my head up and down like this makes perfect sense to me.

“What exactly are you?” He glances at me briefly, coming to a stop at a red light. The red hue fills up the car, making his white face paint appear to glow.

“How is it not obvious?” I mutter more to myself than him. “I’m a cereal killer.”