Page 23 of All Your Pucking Secrets

She jumps, apparently not having noticed me.

“Oh, Echo.” Her hand flutters over her chest. “You gave me a fright.”

I wince. “I’m sorry.”

But now my mind is working overtime. I know some people are just jumpy, but the way Mrs. Kinsey’s eyes are darting all over the place makes me wary. Perhaps Tyler isn’t the only member of the family that Mr. Kinsey has laid his hands on.

“Does Tyler like coffee?” I ask, studying her features for any evidence of violence. She’s wearing enough makeup that it’s impossible to tell if her skin is discolored beneath. I scan her arms, but she’s wearing long sleeves, and her capri pants cover her legs to mid-way down her calves.

I don’t see any damage on the skin beneath the hem, but there are plenty of places it could be hidden.

“Um, yes. He does.” She glances at the hall as if she’d like nothing more than to disappear down it.

“I’d like to make him one before we start, and maybe a snack, too. I saw him running outside. He must be hungry. Is that okay? Could you show me where the kitchen is?”

“I suppose so.” She sounds uncertain, which only increases my certainty that Mr. Kinsey takes out his temper on his whole family.

We each stand there for a long moment, unmoving.

I clear my throat. “The kitchen?”

“Oh.” She jolts in surprise. “Yes. This way.”

She leads me down the hall and into a kitchen with large windows that overlook the back lawn. An island with a marble countertop occupies the center of the space, and all of the paneling is dark wood. Slightly outdated, but no doubt expensive.

Mrs. Kinsey gestures to a fancy coffee maker on the island. “Have you used one of these before?”

“No, ma’am.” I’m liable to break it if I try.

She hesitates, then glides toward it. She’s surprisingly graceful, for a shadow of a woman. She moves like a dancer.

“There are mugs in the cupboard on the other side of the island and a box of protein bars on the shelf above the counter at the end of the room. Why don’t you get those while I make the drinks?” she suggests.

“That would be great. Thank you.” I don’t want to lose all my tutoring money as soon as it arrives just because I don’t know how to work a coffee maker.

While she presses buttons and the machine comes to life, I search for mugs.

“Are you having one?” I ask.

“No, but you’re welcome to,” she replies.

I withdraw two mugs and slide them across to her, then go to the shelf at the end and search for the protein bars she mentioned. I find a stash of them—nearly four boxes—and pull one out. Then, after consideration, I grab another. I don’t want a hangry jock on my hands.

That done, I hover awkwardly while Mrs. Kinsey makes coffee.

“How do you like yours?” she asks.

“Whatever is easiest.” I definitely have preferred tastes when it comes to coffee, but I’ll drink anything with caffeine in it.

A couple of minutes later, Mrs. Kinsey passes me two flat whites on a tray, along with a sachet of sugar, just like I’m at a coffee shop. I thank her, add the protein bars to the tray, and return to the living room, grateful not to encounter Mr. Kinsey on the way. Now that I know what he’s like, I don’t want to see him again.

Tyler is sitting on the sofa, scowling at the textbook, which, to my surprise, he’s actually opened. I don’t know why he’s using mine when I’m sure he has his own, but it’s not like it hurts anyone, so I keep quiet.

“Here.” I lower the tray of coffee onto the table and push the protein bars toward him. “Coffee and a snack.”

He gives me a searching look. “What’s this?”

I squirm, self-conscious. I hadn’t thought about how this might look beyond assuming he’d probably like food and a nice, warm drink. Now, I can’t help but wonder if he suspects this is my weird way of flirting with him.

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