Page 42 of The House on Haven Way

And my name is in the center. “Did you find a heavenly tattoo artist?”

“Showed up all on its own. ‘Cause I belong to you. You’re my girl. I’m your guy.” He climbs into bed next to me and settles me in his lap, letting those magical frequencies of his soul soothe all my broken pieces. “And this is our home now, babe. Amber and Johnny’s place, that little white house on Haven Way. Whaddya say?”

“I say yes. To everything.”

Chapter Ten: The House on Haven Way

October 31st, 2026

“It’s so cute! And it smells amazing.” Honey clomps into the house looking like a cross between an undead ringmaster and a hooker—high platform shoes, a purple velvet tailcoat, striped stockings, and her hair tied in neon green bows.

“That would be my pumpkin spice cake. We can have some cake and coffee before the ball, but I don’t want to spoil your appetite. I know the ball is going to have some amazing food.”

“I don’t care about the food as long as they have some amazing guys—like this Johnny Miller you can’t shut up about.” My cousin fixes me with a pout and clicks her long nails together. “Spill, baby.”

“Oh, you’ll see him. He’ll be here any minute. We match.” I spin in my outfit, black leather jacket, fishnets, mini skirt, hair gelled within an inch of its life in Marcel waves, and chic little flats.

“What are you, some Black Betty Boop with a biker fetish?” Honey asks, giving me a critical look.

“I’m a vintage biker babe, and Johnny is my biker bad-boy ghost.”

“Why a ghost?”

“Because it’s Halloween,” I say, as if that should be obvious, and hope that it works.

I’ve been in Pine Ridge for six weeks now, and I’ve learned a lot. Changed a lot.

Honey comments on that, too. “You seem like a different person. Are you on the happy pills?”

“Nope. Just high on happy. This is a happy place.”

No, honestly, it is. Yeah, there are monsters in this town, but all the ones I’ve met are super nice. The regular people seem nice, too. My life is moving swiftly but peacefully—all the drama’s behind me. I’ve graduated to twice-a-week therapy. I’ve got my new career in the works, and a couple of business courses lined up starting in January.

Best of all?

Johnny.

“Where is he? Meeting us there?”

“No, he’ll be home soon.”

“Home. Soon? Girl! Are you serious? Do you live with him?” Honey hisses, green eyelashes about to fan themselves into flame.

“I do. And I’m gonna, until we’re old and gray together,” I say with perfect ease.

“Oh, you have been skimping on the details. I need to know all the dirt. Job, income, college, stock portfolio—”

“He’s a former sergeant in the Army, he cooks like a god, looks like a sexy Italian-American version of James Dean, and he gives the best massages. Ever. Bar none.” I lean forward, lower my lids, and look dead into Honey’s eyes. “Any toy you name? I’d trade it for an hour with that man.”

Honey rocks back in her chair, fans herself, and clutches some imaginary pearls. “Brothers?”

“Not available,” I reply, and that’s true. “Come on into the kitchen and let’s have something to nibble on.”

Honey follows, teetering on her heels. “Do your parents like him?”

“They spoke on a video chat, but the connection was bad.” Johnny kept looking fuzzy. That’s not the technology; that’s the spirit world, which seems to have a free pass in Pine Ridge. They’ll have to deal. “We’re planning a Halloween wedding next year. In costume,” I say quickly.

“Wedding? You barely know him!”