Craving Constellations Read Online Free PDF

on,” he snapped at me. “You too, Grease.”
    I shook my head and walked away from the Chevelle I was working on and out into the sunlight. I caught up to Poet pretty quickly because he had stopped in the middle of the forecourt, staring at a woman standing next to an old Corolla. What the fuck? That couldn’t be her. The lady was wearing a fuckin’ cardigan. Her hair was not the bold-as-hell red that I remembered; it was more of a strawberry blonde and sleek with no curls in sight. It wasn’t her. No way. This lady would never cut up an old Doors T-shirt, making sure that she didn’t mess up Morrison’s bone structure. She’d never fuck a man the first night she met him. She’d never spend hours lying on his chest, telling him about the constellations and their meanings. And I could never, ever see this lady down on her knees sucking a man’s cock like it was the best fuckin’ lollipop she’d ever tasted.
    I didn’t realize how hard I’d been breathing until it started to slow. Poet was just standing there. This bitch must be lost. I thanked Christ and all the apostles. Poet mocked my thanks when he started moving—fast. He was across the forecourt in a matter of seconds, and as I watched, her mouth formed one word— Pop .
    Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears. Five years later, and she showed up out of the fuckin’ blue. No warning and no word for five goddamn years, and she just drove in like it’s nothing, like she didn’t leave her dad—or me—high and dry. Fury raced through me, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that my heart was beating hard against my ribs as Poet wrapped his arms around her. Then, I swear to Christ, I felt it stop as I watched her face pale and her body go limp.
    After Brenna passed out, everything happened in a blur. Poet caught her, but as he started to walk past her car to bring her inside, his eyes caught on something in her backseat, and he hesitated.
    “Dragon! Come get Brenna! Take her to my room, yeah?”
    I was stepping forward to grab her when I realized exactly what Poet was looking at in the backseat—a kid. A kid who didn’t look anything like Brenna. At first, I wondered if she’d fuckin’ lost it and stolen someone’s kid. Why else would she be here? Shit. Not my problem. But I couldn’t move. I was frozen, standing by that piece of shit Toyota. Poet’s voice was nothing more than a buzz in my ears.
    I think Grease ended up taking Brenna inside, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the little girl. After what seemed like hours later but had to be only minutes, Poet opened the back door and unbuckled the kid from her seatbelt. It was the strangest thing. She was crying, but she wasn’t making any noise or trying to get away. She just sat there on his arm. Stoic. She was a fuckin’ statue, except for those tears.
    I couldn’t figure out why the fuck I was frozen. I was just standing there like an asshole, a lot like the way I had reacted to seeing Brenna for the first time. Poet just kept talking to the girl, trying to get a response, but she was as closed up as a bank vault. Her eyes were darting around the yard though, so I knew there wasn’t anything wrong with her. She was assessing the situation like a little general—finding all of her escape routes and possible enemies.
    When her eyes lit on mine, I finally understood why I couldn’t move, why my chest felt like it was going to explode, and why I was as silent as she was. I knew the reason she didn’t look like Brenna. She surprised everyone in the courtyard by reaching her hands toward me. She didn’t say a word, but her intention was clear. Poet looked back and forth between the two of us several times before realization dawned. The fury on his face would have concerned me if I was aware of it, but as I took her into my arms, she was my sole focus. Her face was mine. Her dark brown eyes were mine. The dimple that showed when she bit the inside of her cheek was mine. She was