Page 37 of The Haunting Plot

Lucy: Raven, that’s a lot. How can we help?

Summer: And your fortieth birthday!

Me: Don’t remind me.

Bella: We should throw a party! I’ll be in charge of food!

Me: No.

Lucy:

Summer: Can we at least help with McKenna’s birthday party? Lana will want to help plan!

Me: Maybe, but there better not be any dicks there! Or clit cakes.

Lucy: And you know Raven means business if she’s using a !

Me: !!!

I set my phone down and crack my knuckles, determined to get back to work. While the thought of letting them plan McKenna’s party gives me anxiety, I can’t deny the weight that’s been lifted at the thought. I know I can depend on my friends, but it’s still hard for me to let go of things. After Kris died, it was important to establish new routines for myself and the kids if we were ever going to function. But grief has a way of fucking with all your carefully constructed plans, and more often than not, I had to rely on my friends to get through the day. Whether it was a warm meal, a perfectly timed playdate, or another hand to help out, they pulled me through the darkest time of my life.

Now that my life is in upheaval again, maybe I can let them ease that burden. But I don’t know about Sawyer. In my experience, men don’t stick around when it matters most. And I’m sure Sawyer is no different. I’m something new and shiny that he’s desperate to catch. But give it time, and the novelty will wear off. And then I’ll be left here cleaning up the mess in his wake, because it’s not just me that I have to worry about.

The dryer buzzes, and I look up long enough to watch Sawyer head in that direction. He really does have a great ass. No, Raven. Focus.

Wyatt strolled back into the room, all six foot five of him. His body looked like it was chiseled by Michelangelo himself, and I wanted to study every inch of the specimen he was. My eyes traveled down his form as he stalked closer, his movements precise, deliberate, undeniably sexy. He was the one man I shouldn’t want. But damn if I didn’t want him in the worst way.

A crashing noise startles me, and when I look up, Sawyer is hopping on one foot, trying to pull his pants on. There’s something oddly hypnotizing about the way his soft parts jiggle with the movement, even if he does look like a drunk panda trying to get dressed.

“Are you almost done?”

He zips his pants and strides toward me. When he approaches my desk, he leans on the edge, flexing his stupidly attractive forearms. “My eyes are up here, Raven.”

Before I can respond, the front door crashes open.

“Moooom! Tommy rode the bus home with me!” Jonah yells as he runs into the house, leaving a trail of shoes, clothing, and a backpack behind him.

“Dad!” Tommy says as he runs over to Sawyer.

“Hey, buddy,” Sawyer says, scooping him up.

The sight of this big, burly man holding a small child shouldn’t have this kind of effect on me. I’m normally immune to things that tug on heartstrings.

Moments later, Jane and McKenna walk in. “Can we go play in my room?” McKenna asks as Jane hugs her dad.

“Yeah, but no snacks up there.”

“Okay!” the girls call as they drop their bags and disappear upstairs.

“Can I help you with your stuff?” Tommy asks as Sawyer sets him down.

“I wanna help too, but I need some water first because my dingleberry itches,” Jonah says.

Sawyer glances over at me, and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “What itches?”

“My dingleberry.” Jonah opens his mouth wide and sticks his hand in, talking around it as he points to the back of his throat. “This itches. My dingleberry.”

Sawyer looks at the ceiling, and I can tell he’s about to lose it, so I step in. “The word you’re looking for is uvula. A dingleberry is a little piece of poop that gets stuck in the hair around your butthole.”