Possess

night.”
    “Awesome. My dad’s going to be so jealous.”

Twenty-Eight
    “H EY , M OM, WE’RE HERE,” B RIDGET called as she and Matt came through the front door. She got no answer, just the sound of laughter—male and female—coming from the kitchen. Bridget pushed open the swinging door and found her mom holding a piece of braised carrot between her fingers while Sergeant Quinn playfully took a bite. Their bodies were almost touching, her mom laughing, happy, Sergeant Quinn’s eyes fixed on her face.
    “Dad?” Matt said. He sounded genuinely shocked. Time to get with the program, Matt.
    “Bridget!” her mom said. She took a step away from Sergeant Quinn and straightened out her sweater. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
    “Obviously.”
    “Dad, what are you doing here?”
    Sergeant Quinn flushed a bright shade of fuchsia. “Well, Annie called and said you were coming for dinner, and she was kind enough to invite me over too.”
    “But Sunday nights you play poker with the guys from the station.”
    Sergeant Quinn shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Er, well, Benny had to cancel tonight and Curtis’s kid has the flu so, um . . .”
    Bridget felt bad for Matt as he stood there, feet rooted to the linoleum floor, realizing for the first time that his dad had the hots for her mom. It was like watching a kid finally understand that Santa Claus doesn’t exist and that your parents had been lying to you your whole life. Brutal.
    “Well,” her mom said, breaking the silence. “Dinner’s almost ready. Bridget, why don’t you take Matt to your room and then you can set the table?”
    Bridget shook her head. This was seriously the only household in America where the mom encouraged her daughter to take a boy to her room. She turned to leave, realized Matt was still staring dumbfounded at his dad, and grabbed his arm, yanking him into the hallway. “This way.”
    “What the hell was that?” Matt said, dropping into the chair at Bridget’s desk. “You don’t even look surprised.”
    “Yeah, ’cause I’m not.”
    Realization dawned. “You knew?”
    “Dude, your dad is here like two nights a week. Checking up on us.”
    “He was worried. Felt a sense of responsibility because . . . because . . .”
    Bridget’s smile was pitying. “Yeah, not so much.”
    Matt pointed toward the door. “They were flirting in there.”
    “I know. They’ve been doing it for, like, three months.”
    He fell silent, clearly internalizing what he’d just seen. Bridget felt bad for him: He really didn’t have a clue.
    “No wonder you were so pissed off at me,” he said at last.
    Bridget looked at him. His hazel eyes held a hint of sadness, and she realized that he was right. She hadn’t really understood where her dislike of Matt came from. He’d been nothing but nice to her since he came back into her life, and she’d been nothing but a raging bitch in return. But suddenly it all made sense. She’d been so angry at her mom for flirting with another man less than a year after her husband’s death, so angry at Sergeant Quinn, her dad’s supposed friend, she never even realized that she’d totally and completely taken her anger out on Matt.
    “It’s okay,” he said. A smile spread across his face. “I get it now. I just really thought you hated me.” He walked right to her, reached out, and took her hands in his. “But you don’t hate me, do you?”
    “I—” Bridget’s eyes locked onto Matt’s, and whatever she was about to say vanished from her mind. Matt ran his thumbs gently over the backs of her hands, which trembled beneath his touch.
    Did she hate him?
    Not even a little.
    She didn’t know when it had happened, or how, but she definitely didn’t hate Matt Quinn anymore.
    Her face must have said what her words didn’t. Matt cupped her cheek in his hand, caressing her skin with the tips of his fingers. He leaned down, hesitated to see if she’d flinch away. But Bridget had no intention of doing so. She wanted him closer.
    When his lips touched hers, she was afraid to move. She’d never kissed a guy before and she was terrified that she’d do it wrong. But Matt’s lips were surprisingly soft, his touch light and calm. And when he finally broke away from her, he looked nervous, as if he’d been afraid he would break her.
    “Are you okay? I mean, was that okay?”
    Bridget barely nodded. There was so much weirdness pulsing through her body she felt like she was