“I’ll tell you tomorrow’s words,” he whispers, breath warming my hair. “You’re loved, adorable.”
I’m about to start full-on sobbing when I hear a tiny growl… then a hiss… and Ghost jolts slightly.
I blink away the tears and look down at his feet.
“Gary!” I gasp, scooping him into my arms. He just attacked Ghost’s ankle and left a small, bleeding scratch behind.
“You named him Gary?” Ghost asks, surprise lacing his voice.
I glare up at him, scratching Gary behind the ears. “Yes, I did. It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful kitty.”
I glance at his feet, then back up. “Why are you walking around barefoot?”
He smirks, but his eyes hold nothing but accusation. And a little amusement.
“Becausesomeoneput itching powder in all of my boots,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes. “I wonder who that was.”
I drop all emotion from my face.
“I have no idea. You should maybe look into that,” I say coolly. I pause. Roll my eyes. “Just vacuum inside the damn boots.”
He huffs and shakes his head. Before he can say anything, his phone starts ringing. He pulls it out, frowns at the screen, then looks back at me.
“I have to go,” he murmurs, and starts walking.
But he stops in the doorway and looks back over his shoulder.
“By the way, adorable,” he taunts, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “Gary is a terrible name. You’re not naming any of our kids.”
“There won’t be any kids to name, jerk,” I shoot back, grab a book from the bed, and hurl it at him.
It hits square in the middle of the closed door. He’s already gone. And —somehow— I fucking miss his presence.
I look down at a squirming Gary and pout.
“Ria was right. I’m in trouble, little Gary,” I whisper. “I’m in so much trouble.”
Gary just looks at me like I’m an idiot. He might be onto something.
27. Lightning
Adora
“Why do you think you’re playing all these pranks on him, Adora?” Dr. Monroe asks in a gentle voice, raising one thin eyebrow.
I bite my lip. Look around the room. Avoid her fucking all-knowing, prying eyes. I don’t know if I’m ready for the truth. But I give an answer anyway.
“Maybe I just want a childhood do-over,” I say, pouting a little. “Maybe I just need to release some tension. Laugh a little. And he’s the perfect target for those pranks.”
Dr. Monroe hums, like she doesn’t believe me. “You don’t sound so sure of yourself,” she says, watching me closely. She inhales deeply before continuing. “What does he do after you play your pranks?”
I look at her, a little confused, and shrug. “He doesn’t do any—” I start, but stop abruptly and purse my lips.
“Go on,” Dr. Monroe encourages, leaning forward.
I sigh and throw my head back. “He flirts,” I admit. “Shamelessly.”
“In other words, he gives you attention. Do you want his attention?” She asks, taking her glasses off and tilting her head.
