Blind Love (The Complete Box Set Romance Series) (2 page)

She makes me show
her how I look before school every day. I know how to dress. She taught me,
after all. I thought she should leave me alone. We don’t talk the whole ride
home. When we got there, Dad’s car was in the driveway.

I hopped out to go
see my daddy. I missed our talk on the ride home. I had a question for him that
I didn’t think my mom could answer. Flying in the front door, I stopped dead at
the strange guy sitting in my living room.

“What are you
doing here?”

The boy stood. He
looked a little familiar, but I was scared.

“I’m Dylan. Your
father brought me home,” he said.

“Dylan? Where’s my
father?” I raced down the hall to the kitchen before he could answer. “Daddy?”

“What, pumpkin?”

I stopped in the
doorway to the kitchen. My dad was putting food on a plate.

“Who is that guy
in the living room?”

“That’s Dylan
Cabot.”

I had heard of
him. He was a burnout and bad news. Why was he in my living room? My friends
were coming over after dinner. “Why is he here?”

“He had no place
to stay, and his mother is in the hospital,” he said.

It still didn’t
make sense. “How did you meet him?”

“That not
important, pussycat. He’s staying with us for a few days.”

I blinked.
“Staying with us? Does Mom know?”

“Not yet.”

The front door
closed and my mother strode into the kitchen. “What is that tattooed boy doing
in our living room?”

“Relax, Mallory.
He needed a place to stay, so I offered him one of our bedrooms. We have more
than we need.”

“He looks like
trouble.”

“Well, he is in
trouble and I’d appreciate you being nice to him. The kid’s had it rough, and he
needs our help.”

“Robert Dean, you
are a softy. Do you have a plan?”

“Not yet. But I
will.”

She frowned. My
mother didn’t like people in the house. She only tolerated my friends because
we went into the basement and she couldn’t hear us. My mother could be a bitch.
I bet she was going to give Dad a hard time about Dylan after I went to bed.

“Dylan,” my dad
yelled.

The boy appeared
in the kitchen doorway looking at all of us as if we were going to challenge
his right to be there. As long as he stayed out of my way, we’d be fine. I had
no time for sullen teen boys when I had my eye on the quarterback of the
football team.

“Here’s some food.
Eat.”

“You already fed
me,” he said.

His voice was
deep, more like a man than he looked. He was skinny and a tattoo snaked up his
arm into his shirt. I wasn’t sure I liked tattoos, and it made him look a
little scary.

“Well, Dylan, I
guess you’ll be our guest for a little while,” my mom said.

As much as she
didn’t want him here, she still had manners. You know, all about appearances
and such.

“Thank you, ma’am.
I appreciate it.”

He took a spot on
a stool at our kitchen island, then dug into the food Dad had offered him.

“Dylan, this is my
daughter, Taylor,” he said.

Dylan looked at
me, then through me. “Hello. You’re in my math class.”

Okay. I hadn’t
seen him, but I might not notice someone like him. He wasn’t in the crowd I
hung out with.

***

I was hungry, but
I didn’t really want to eat with Dylan. He ate like he hadn’t seen food in
years. Did he never eat in public?

“I’m going to take
my plate downstairs,” I said.

My mother nodded.
My father frowned. “You might as well eat with Dylan and me. Are you eating,
honey?”

My mother shook
her head. “No, I have a meeting tonight.”

She eyed Dylan as
if she didn’t want to leave him alone in the house, like a new dog that might
not be housetrained. At least my mother could escape. My father gave me a look
that told me I couldn’t argue with him. I did anyway.

“I have friends
coming over to study.”

“You can eat a
plate of food before they get here,” he said. “You could invite Dylan to meet
your friends.”

Before I could
disagree, Dylan said it. “I don’t think so, sir. I have my own homework.”

My father eyed us
then shrugged. “Okay. Do you need a computer? I think we have an older laptop
laying around here somewhere. Where is that, Taylor?”

“It’s in the den,
Daddy.”

I put some stew on
my plate. I had snacks in the basement. My father made sure there was food down
there, much to the chagrin of my mother. He would rather me have friends over
where he could keep an eye on us. He was sure I was going to get into some kind
of trouble.

Whatevs
.
Not like there weren’t many other hours in a day that I could get up to
trouble. They didn’t really know when cheerleading practice ended. Not that I really
got up to anything.

I had a beer at a
party once and I had wanted to throw up. I waited until I felt normal again
before I drove home. No one was the wiser, but it scared me.

So, I didn’t
drink.

Not worth it. I’d
bet Dylan partied every night. What would my Dad think of that?

“Dylan, you said
you and Taylor are in the same math class?”

“Yes, sir.”

He put down his
fork. I could see another tattoo on his other arm. How many did he have? Did
they hurt? I didn’t want to ask. Dylan and I didn’t travel in the same social
circles. I doubted that we even knew the same people.

“How are you doing
in it?”

“Well, sir. I’m
good at math.”

He looked like he
was good at math, but I thought, but kept quiet and chewed. I braced for what
my father was going to say next.

“Could you help
Taylor with it?”

Dylan looked at
her as if he was afraid she would bite. “Uh, if she wants me to.”

“Not tonight,
Daddy. I have friends coming,” I said.

I didn’t want
Dylan around me. Really, I didn’t. What had Daddy been thinking bringing him
home? Weren’t there shelters for people like him?

“Okay, sweetheart,
but it sounds like Dylan could help you get your grade up.”

I didn’t frown,
but I wanted to. “Sure, Daddy. We can get together this weekend.”

Dylan nodded, then
went back to his food. I escaped not long after. I set up snacks in a few bowls
along with some chocolate – just the study food we needed.

The basement had
its own entrance so my mother didn’t have to be bothered by people. Helena
Charney
, my best friend, arrived first.

“Hey, girl.”

We hugged. She was
different from most of our friends. She wasn’t that into fashion, just enough
that my other friends didn’t bug me about her – because they would. I once wore
last year’s style to school and I never heard the end of it. I almost called my
mother to come get me.

When I told her,
she took me shopping that afternoon.

I’ve never worn
last year’s clothing again.

Helena had put a
purple streak in her brunette hair, and I worried that no one else would like
it. “Why did you do that?”

She shrugged.
“Just felt like it.”

“You look like a
goth.”

“Hardly. It’s one
streak of purple, Taylor.”

I kept quiet,
opening my books to study. I had a report due the next day and would type it
when everyone left.

Next into the
basement came the B girls. Bailey and Barbie were twins and everyone just
called them the B girls because it was tough to tell them apart. I could.
Bailey was nicer than Barbie. Her hair was also a little darker than Barbie’s.

“Cheers, bitches,”
Bailey said. “I have a report and I need a lot of help.”

Helena rolled her
eyes. Bailey needed help all of the time. I often wondered what she was going
to do in college when we weren’t there. The B girls dropped onto the couch
while Helena grabbed some chips.

When I heard
footsteps on the stairs, I expected to see my dad. He’d come down if my mother
wasn’t there so he could steal some junk food. Instead, it was Dylan.

The B girls
gasped. Bailey mouthed, “Is that Dylan Cabot?”

I nodded. “Can I
help you, Dylan?”

“Your dad sent me
down for a bag of chips,” he said.

He glanced at all
of the girls, but his face showed nothing.

“The chips are in
the closet,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t linger since he was coming across a
little creepy.

He grabbed a bag.
“Thanks.”

He trudged back up
the stairs. Barbie squealed. “What is he doing in your house? He’s like a
burnout or a druggy or something.”

“My father brought
him home. You know how he is with strays,” I said.

That was really
the only explanation.

“I think he’s kind
of hot,” Bailey said.

“Hot? He’s bad news.
He was caught stealing from the dollar store. The dollar store. I mean,
really,” Barbie said.

I had heard many
stories about Dylan and wondered if I should share them with Daddy. He should
know who he invited into our house. “I think it’s for a few days while his
mother is in the hospital.”

“Still, he has the
bad boy mystique. Do you really think he’s had sex with as many girls as I’ve
heard?” Barbie said. She shivered a little, but I could tell she was thinking
it might be a good idea.

“Who told you he
had sex with a lot of girls?” I asked. I was curious, okay?

Barbie shrugged.
“I heard some girls talking in the bathroom. He picks the
uggos
,
from what I can tell. Guess they’re more desperate.”

“I think he could
get any girl he wanted,” Bailey said.

Oh, crap. Bailey
crushed on anything with a penis. The last thing I needed was her inventing
reasons to be here because of Dylan. “He’ll be gone in a few days, so we really
don’t need to talk about him.”

“Shall we talk
about that quarterback?” Barbie said.

Again, Helena
rolled her eyes. She opened her books and, I guess, let the conversation flow
around her.

“He was watching
you do that split, Taylor. I think he’s into you.”

I shrugged,
pretending it was no big deal, but he was Hot. With a capital H. “Maybe.”

“I bet he asks you
to the dance,” Barbie said.

“We’ll see. Then I
have to decide if I want to go with him.”

Chapter
Three

Dylan

I opened my eyes
and couldn’t believe that I had slept the whole night. That was the first time
in years. I wasn’t cold or hungry. I felt safe. The idea bothered me a little.
My stay here might not be long, so I shouldn’t get used to it.

I doubted that
Taylor would put up with me for too long. I listened at the top of the steps as
her and her friends talked last night. Wow. Girls are whacked.

No, I hadn’t had
sex with a lot of girls and some of the girls who claimed to have had sex with
me, I didn’t even know. Glad that in rumors I was getting so much tail.

I showered in my
own bathroom. It was different after always sharing one. When I walked down to
the kitchen for breakfast, Taylor was looking at her phone. Her mother was
making some bacon. I couldn’t remember the last time I had bacon, let alone the
last time I’d had more than stale cereal to eat. A lot of times that was
dinner, too.

“Good morning,
Dylan,” Mrs. Dean said.

“Good morning.”

“There’s orange
juice in the fridge. Please use a glass.”

I’m poor, not
ignorant, I thought, but I pressed my lips together. I had the impression that
my stay here was against her judgment. I glanced at Taylor, but she didn’t look
up. I wasn’t the quarterback. I wasn’t even an athlete, though I thought I
could be. I wasn’t in her realm at all.

Oh, well. She
could be nice and at least grunt at me.

“Good morning,
Taylor,” I said, not knowing why. I couldn’t resist.

She paused in
tapping on her phone and looked at me. She rolled her eyes when she thought I
wasn’t paying attention. “Morning.”

She went back to
her phone.

“Mr. Dean left a
phone for you. We had an older iPhone lying around,” Mrs. Dean said.

What else did this
family just have lying around? She handed me the phone. “Thank you.”

She also handed
him a piece of paper. “Here’s the phone number for the phone and all of our
phones.”