Page 57 of Bake the Town Red

“I have bills if you can’t take credit today. Here, let me just—”

“No, no, and no.” I muffle Kelly’s hair, even though she’s taller and older than me. “This is me thanking you for dropping by. You’re one of my favorite customers.”

Tonight’s target will have a completely different kind of thank you thrown her way. The murderous kind.

“Thank you,” she says while I shrug my hoodie on and slip the shop key into the front pocket.

She says more, though it’s impossible to hear her.

I’m already crossing the street and speeding toward Tyler’s.

The building where Tyler lives is nicer than mine. Muchnicer.

He should’ve lived in a great place like that much sooner. But no, he chose to stay in our old crappy one. His grandma wouldn’t move out.

That wasn’t the only reason, though.

I wouldn’t move out, kept waiting for Ian. So he stayed there, where he could be close to me. Help me. Be my friend.

He’d been appointed to be my legal guardian soon after I murdered Al. Wasted no time filing for the papers. Made sure I didn’t spend a single day in a foster home. Not a second in the system.

They came for me, of course they did. Tyler wouldn’t let them take me. He put himself between me and the cops. Me and the social service blond man who brushed his hair to the side and had his glasses drooping down his nose.

Tyler, at twenty-seven, saved me. He said—no,insisted—I wouldn’t be better off elsewhere. That given the trauma I’d endured, a foster home could screw with what little sanity I had left.

He wasn’t lying. My fingers were constantly clutched onto his hoodie. My teeth scraped my bottom teeth, drawing blood. And the scar on my neck, fuck, that hurt so bad. It burned harder after Ian fled. Burned and burned and burned.

Without Tyler and his grandma, I would’ve happily traipsed off the ledge of sanity. Thrown myself head-first into the depths of hell.

That was how he became my legal guardian. It wasn’t enough, though. I wanted more from him.

“Stay where you are, Dahlia,” Tyler said from his place on the floor.

The cops were gone. My apartment had been barricaded with yellow tape. It was just the two of us in their living room.

And I had one of my feet off the sofa bed.

Mrs. Price had offered me to share her bed earlier that evening, and I’d declined. Claimed the bedroom felt claustrophobic. That I needed space. Air.

I lied. After two days of watching my uncle decaying—two days where I pissed myself and cried and prayed for Ian to be safe—Tyler had come for me. He’d saved me from the authorities. From being taken to a foster home.

But I didn’t need his kindness. I neededTyler. I loved him.

I fell for him harder with every second we spent together.

Except he didn’t love me back. Not like I wanted. He’d kept a safe distance from me. Let me have the sofa bed while he took the floor.

“Why?” I placed my second foot on the floor. “Why can’t I sleep next to you?”

Tyler glowered at me. Even from the floor, he looked intimidating.

“It’s inappropriate.” More glaring. Both my feet were back up on the sofa bed. Beneath the covers. Fucking frustrating. “You’re fifteen.”

“I killed a man,” I huffed. “I’m a woman. A badass woman.”

“Life dealt you a shitty hand, little savage.” He perched his cheek on his hand. “Doesn’t make you an adult. It makes you beautifully scarred. Courageous. You’re still a kid.”

“Fuck being a kid.”

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