Chapter 4
“Jesus, kid. What the hell?”
“Not a kid,” he reminded me, his tone easy. Then he opened my front door and walked right in. It took me a few seconds longer to get my boots off than it had for him to kick off his flip flops, so by the time I made it into the kitchen, he had pulled out deli meat and mayonnaise.
“What are you doing?” I growled.
“Making you a sandwich, you big grump.” But his tone was filled with so much affection I couldn’t be mad at the name-calling.
“It’s only eleven.”
“So?” Dylan efficiently stacked everything together, then plopped it on a plate before cutting it in half. “You’ve been out there for hours already. You could stand to eat.”
As if on cue, my stomach growled and Dylan gave me a pointed look. I sighed and sat.
“I do love that ‘giving in’ sigh you make.”
I chose to ignore that, and focused on the rest of it. “How’d you know I’ve been out there for hours? You keeping tabs on me?”