I feel something about her death, and that feeling scares me, because it’s happiness. It’ssomuch fucking happiness that she gets to experience a fraction of the pain she put me through, even if only for a short time. I want to celebrate it like it’s the Fourth of July and Christmas wrapped in one, and I don’t know what to make of that.
After a few more minutes of my mind spiraling, the dot finally moves again, straight towardNext Chapter.
When he’s near, I’m instantly out of my chair — and then I freeze, eyes locked on the front door.
When the bell chimes and Ghost steps inside, my knees nearly give out. He’s walking on his own, so that’s a good sign. He gives Domino a nod and heads straight for me. My eyes scan him, finding no visible wounds except a deep bruise and a cut on his cheek.
I can live with that.
“You said two days and it’s been three. You’re a day late!” The words rip out of me before I can stop them. “And where’s my fucking note? There wasn’t one this morning.”
Shit. I sound unhinged even to myself.
His eyebrows climb higher with every step he takes. When he finally stops, the corner of his mouth hooks up in a slow, maddening smile. He sets a paper bag in front of me and slides it across the counter slowly.
“Domino said you forgot your lunch this morning,” he murmurs. “I stopped at the diner and grabbed you something.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, flooding my whole body. Dammit. Why am I so embarrassingly easy to please?Control your issues, Adora!
“I didn’t forget,” I mutter, aiming for snark and missing the mark entirely. “I was running late. Didn’t have time to make anything.”
I peek into the bag. “What did you get me?” I was banking on Ria’s muffins to tide me over until dinner, but the thought of something more substantial makes my stomach happy.
His smile turns into a devious smirk that makes my breath hitch.
He leans in, voice dropping low enough to curl around my spine. “A BLT.” His eyes rake over me, slow and thorough. “It’s not as good as the one I make, but it’ll do.”
Then he licks his bottom lip like he’s about to bite into chocolate cake.
“For now,” he adds lightly, as if he didn’t just drag up the memory of the first time he made me one and we ended up fucking like rabbits.
Heat floods straight between my thighs. I almost clamp my legs together before I catch myself.
Oh, this asshole. Two can play this game.
I shove the bag aside and lean forward too, mirroring his posture, wearing my own sinful little smirk.
“Make me one soon, Ghost,” I purr, my voice drenched in honey and sex. “Your BLT was so good I’d love to put it in my mouth again.Sothick.Sojuicy. All that special sauce.”
I trail a finger from my parted lips, down my throat, to the swell of my cleavage. His eyes follow, helpless, like he’s hypnotized.
“And if it dripped,” I add softly, “I wouldn’t waste a single drop.”
I tilt my head, my smirk turning into a satisfied smile, and wait.
His chest rises suddenly, like he’s a second away from exploding. He squeezes his eyes shut, swallows hard, then opens them again, one hand shifting to adjust the very obvious bulge in his jeans.
“Goddamn,” he breathes. “You win this time, adorable.”
I shoot him a glare. “I’ll win every time.”
The stupid banter lifts the fog of anxiety and, for the first time since he stepped through the door, I catch the glint of worry and anger in his eyes. He hides it well — but not well enough. Which means whatever’s wrong is fucking bad. The thought sobers me instantly.
“What happened this weekend?” The question slips out quietly, before he can say anything else.
His expression falters. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter, and exhales slowly, like he’s bracing himself.
“Sombra’s gone,” he says. “Your mother will follow. Today.”
