Possess

least I don’t have to explain why I’m not turning it in.” He gathered up his tray and nodded at Peter. “We still on for tutoring tonight?”
    “Yeah,” Peter said. “But if it’s after practice, you’ll have to come to my house. My mom won’t drive in the dark.”
    Hector bit his lip so hard trying to suppress a laugh, he practically drew blood.
    “No, worries, dude.” Brad stood up. “For help with algebra, I’ll take it.”
    “I’m sure Peter can help you pass algebra this time,” Hector said. Bridget caught a faint tinge of pink in his cheeks. Hector might have been able to hide his crush on Brad from everyone else on the planet, but not from her.
    “Let’s hope,” Brad said with a grin. “Catch you guys later.”
    “Bye, Brad,” Hector said with a wistful sigh as Brad’s tall, lanky form sauntered away and disappeared into the lunchroom crowd.
    “Why does he hang out with us again?” Bridget asked.
    “Other than the fact that Peter keeps him from flunking math?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Probably your hag factor.”
    Oh, yes, Hector’s favorite topic of conversation: Brad’s closeted gayness. Of course Hector was the only one who actually thought Brad was gay. Not that it stopped him.
    “It’s the only reason I can think of to explain hottie Brad hanging out with us social lepers,” Hector continued.
    “Hottie Brad?” Bridget teased. “I thought you told me he wasn’t your type?”
    Hector flushed. “Yeah. He’s, um, totally not.”
    Bridget realized she’d hit a little close to home. Time to change the subject.
    “So who’s the gaysian of the week?”
    Hector glanced up at her from beneath his heavy fringe of eyelashes and grinned. “Ah, there was a gorgeous barista at the Grind this weekend. I think I’m in love.”
    “You’re always in love,” Peter said.
    Hector smirked. “So are you.”
    Bridget picked up her bag and tray before the subject of Matt Quinn could be resurrected. “Come on, Hector. Don’t want to be late for the new history teacher.”
    All Bridget could think about as she and Hector threaded their way through the hallway was Matt Quinn.
    How many times had she told him she didn’t need a guardian angel? But try as she might, she just couldn’t shake her old childhood playmate. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure that she wanted to. It didn’t help that he was so kind to Sammy. Bridget was grateful for anything Matt could do to help keep her little brother from getting picked on at school. The thought of Matt teaching Sammy to play baseball made her smile.
    Then he’d do something annoying, like get her grounded, and she was over him.
    Matt’s dad had been the referring officer in the Undermeyer case that landed in her dad’s office. Sergeant Quinn thought Undermeyer, the St. Michael’s facilities manager and a suspect in a breaking-and-entering case at the parish, was a certifiable whack job, and he’d asked Dr. Liu to give a professional opinion. Two of them had entered her dad’s office at Hugh Darlington’s Fallen Angels Clinic that afternoon—Dr. Liu and Milton Undermeyer—but only one walked back out. There were no witnesses, and the audiotape Dr. Liu had been running during the session had mysteriously clicked off just five minutes in.
    Sergeant Quinn threw himself into the murder investigation. There was no weapon, and no suspect other than the straitjacketed Undermeyer, who managed to get off with an insanity plea. Since that day, Sergeant Quinn had elected and inaugurated himself protector-in-chief of the Liu
family.
    Bridget was pretty sure that her mom’s hotness didn’t hurt.
    Matt had followed in Sergeant Daddy’s footsteps. She remembered him at the funeral, his light hazel eyes fixed on her from the other side of her father’s open grave. She hadn’t seen him since they were kids, but his eyes held all the sadness Bridget felt, as if he was suffering her anguish right along with her.
    Bridget had felt sick during the whole funeral, but there at the grave site, she thought she was going to pass out. Matt had walked around the grave and stood beside her, quiet and calm. He reached out and took her hand, and in that moment Bridget wanted to cry, to let all the pain and anger pour out while Matt held her.
    Then Sergeant Quinn had come up beside them. Her mom collapsed into his arms and wept uncontrollably while Sergeant Quinn stood strong and sturdy, stroking her mom’s hair. Bridget saw in Sergeant Quinn the same thing she