Grabbing my bag from the easy chair, I slid it onto my shoulder and smiled. “Believe me, the distraction is more than welcomed.”
***
“Hey kid,” I greeted Greyson as he slumped into the passenger seat. “How was school?”
“Great,” he grumbled angrily, slamming the door shut and resting his elbow against the window ledge.
“Well, that doesn’t sound so great,” I countered, driving away from the curb. “Can you please put on your seatbelt?”
He muttered something unintelligible, but he listened, strapping himself in with an irritated huff. Without another word, he turned up the volume on my current playlist, to listen to a Foo Fighters song we were both a fan of, and I decided to be brave as I smiled at him.
“Hey, remember the time we went to see the Foos together?” I asked, reaching over to nudge my knuckles against his thigh.
“Yeah,” he brusquely replied, fixing his gaze out the window.
“That was a good night,” I reminisced, all at once wanting to cry and hating the world for dulling those happy memories in my mind with the bad ones.
Greyson didn’t reply. He continued to stare out the window, scratching his fingers against the ledge and pinching, releasing, pinching his lips. I knew those ticks; he wanted to cry. I hated myself for hoping he wouldn’t. Just for one day, I hoped we could get through without any tears or shouting. I could handle banter. I could handle his attitude. But I didn’t want the fight.
Driving down the streets of Hog Hill, Pennsylvania toward my farmhouse-style abode in the suburbs, I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel as the next track began to play. A song by Seether, “Broken.” Sam loved this song. She and I had seen them together once, years ago, before Greyson was born. During her days of being a groupie, batting her lashes to get backstage and sleep with members of the band.
I reached over and skipped the song.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS |
Thank you to my family, all of them—as usual. However, in this book, I need to make mention of my sister, Karen. This book wouldn’t exist without you and our brainstorming sessions. Everything, from Malachy’s name to the overall storyline, is pretty much all you. So, thank you for that. I probably would’ve dedicated this book to you, if those Dubliners hadn’t made such an impact on me.
Also, to my sister, Kelly, for Emma’s name. If anybody knows about those food-slash-lifestyle bloggers, it’s you.
Thank you to Danny. A lot of Malachy’s personality came from you. I’m not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment or not but take it for what it is.
Thank you to Jess for the endless amount of support, and the edits! You are a rock star. I don’t think I’d be able to travel the world and do what you do. You’re my hero.
To Judy. Oh, Judy. This book might not be titled A Kinney for Judy but know that I am eternally grateful for you every single day. Your support, encouragement, and willingness to learn have helped me to better myself as an author. You are incredible, Wags. Don’t you forget it.
Thank you, Jon McLaughlin and John Mayer. You guys fuel my words. I love you.
To all of my author friends. The tribe I’ve acquired over the past year or so is incredible. For all the help, support, advice—everything—thank you. I am not worthy, but for some reason, you seem to think so. Thank you.
Lastly, you. My dear readers. Thank you. I love each and every one of you for giving my words and characters life. I am only here right now, because of you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kelsey Kingsley lives in New York with her family and a cat named Ethel.
She believes that there is nothing better than a good doughnut and a cup of tea, and that there is a song for everything.
OTHER BOOKS from KELSEY KINGSLEY
Holly Freakin’ Hughes
One Night to Fall (Kinney Brothers #1)
To Fall for Winter (Kinney Brothers #2)
Last Chance to Fall (Kinney Brothers #3)
Daisies & Devin
Hope to Fall (Kinney Brothers Book 4) Page 20