Dare You To (Pushing the Limits 2)

“Sure. ” He enters a pantry and I plop onto a stool at the island as far from Scott’s girl as possible. She stares at a spot right in front of me. Huh. Funny. I’m in arm’s reach of a butcher block full of knives. I can imagine the thoughts running through her single-celled brain.

Scott places boxes of Cheerios, Branflakes, and Shredded Wheat in front of me.

“You have got to be fucking kidding. ”

Where the hell are the Lucky Charms?

“Nice language,” the woman says.

“Thanks,” I respond.

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment. ”

“Do I look like I fucking care?”

Scott slides a bowl and spoon to me, then goes to the refrigerator for milk. “Let’s tone it down. ”

I choose the Cheerios and keep pouring until a few toasty circles trickle onto the counter.

Scott sits in the chair next to mine and the two of them watch me in silence. Well, sort of silence. My crunching is louder than a nuclear bomb blast.

“Scott told me you had blond hair,” says the woman.

I swallow, but it’s hard to do when my throat tightens. The little girl I used to be, the one with blond hair, died years ago and I hate thinking about her. She was nice. She was happy. She was…not someone I want to remember.

“Why is your hair black?” The lawn ornament at the other end of the island has officially become annoying.

“What are you exactly?” I ask.

“This is my wife, Allison. ”

The Cheerios catch in my throat and I choke, coughing into my hand. “You’re married?”

“Two years,” says Scott. Ugh. He does that googly-eye thing Noah does with Echo.

I slide another spoonful of Cheerios into my mouth. “When I’m done—” crunch, crunch, crunch “—I’m going home. ”

“This is your home now. ” Scott has that calm tone again.

“The hell it is. ”

Allison’s eyes dart between me and the knives. Yeah, lady, a couple of hours in jail and I’ve moved from destruction of property to sociopath.

“Maybe you should listen to her,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say through more crunches,

“maybe you should listen to me. Your wife’s worried I’m going to go all Manson and slit her throat while she sleeps. ” I smile at her for effe

ct.

Color drains from her face. At times, I really enjoy being me.

Scott gives me the once-over—starting with my black hair, then moving on to my black fingernails, the ring in my nose, and finally my clothes. Then he turns to his wife. “Will you give us a few minutes alone?”

Allison leaves without saying a word. I shovel in more cereal and purposely talk with my mouth full. “Did you have to purchase the leash for her or did it come as a package deal?”

“You won’t disrespect her, Elisabeth. ”