Page 303 of Playing With Fire

Coach groans. “Not this again.”

“Tell me that's not interference.”

“You've shown me three times.”

“And you've been wrong three times.”

They disappear into the living room, already arguing.

I start gathering the remaining dishes.

Mrs. B takes the plates from my hands.

“Hayes, leave those. Can you grab another mug for Laney?”

I glance toward the back door. “Yeah, the pink one.”

“You know her.”

I do.

And apparently, I'm not doing a very good job of hiding it. I reach into the cabinet and take down her favorite mug. Hazelnut creamer. A generous splash. Just the way she likes it.

When I turn around, Mrs. B is watching me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Except the way she's smiling suggests otherwise.

I set Delaney's mug beside mine.

Mrs. B folds the dish towel in her hands. “Hayes, can I ask you something?”

There it is.

I straighten.

“Sure.”

She wipes her hands on a towel. “What's going on between you and my daughter?”

I nearly drop my coffee.

Jesus.

Does everybody in this family have some kind of radar?

I open my mouth. Close it.

Mrs. B waits.

And something about the patience in her expression makes the usual excuse stick in my throat. I could tell her nothing. It's what I told Declan. But I don't think I could stand hearing myself say it again.

Not when I know exactly what that word cost me.

“It's complicated,” I finally admit.