Page 54 of The Haunting Plot

“Now I know you’re lying. That’s from a movie. There’s Something About Mary.”

“I didn’t get the whole frank zipped, and the beans were untouched, but I did nick this area right below the tip.” I point to the little scar on the toy.

Her eyes squint as she leans in close to the toy. “Hmm, I always assumed that was a defect.”

It’s an effort not to look smug, knowing that she’s been pleasuring herself with my dick for years and that it’s her favorite toy.

“I should get back to it.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder.

“Get back to what? You didn’t even say why you were here.”

“I had some free time and wanted to finish Jonah’s bathroom, but my toolbox isn’t where I last left it.”

She arches an eyebrow. “And you thought it’d be in here?”

I shrug. “No, but I heard a noise and thought I’d see what your ghost is up to today. And before you give me an earful, I know I need to keep up with my tools.”

“The only toolbox in here is mine, and it’s full of toys.” A wicked grin lights up my face before she changes the subject. “But as for your toolbox, I moved it because I didn’t want Jonah getting into it. It’s in the spare bedroom.”

Reluctantly, I back away in that direction. “You mean your future red room?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re exhausting.” She shakes her head in exasperation, but there’s a hint of humor in her eyes.

“Sorry, I’ll be better about putting my tools up. I’ll let you get back to it.” I pause, making sure I have her full attention before I speak. “Can you do one thing for me, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Think of me when you fuck yourself with my dick.”

I leave the room quickly, closing the door behind me, afraid she might throw my own dick at my head.

Once I locate my toolbox, I head to the bathroom to finish the flooring. I prepare my workspace, laying out everything I need, and start measuring. I cut several pieces, then reach behind my ear. Where is my fucking pencil? I glance around, frantically searching for it, but it’s missing, like a roll of tape while wrapping presents.

I lean over and grab a Sharpie out of my toolbox, tucking it behind my ear. It takes longer than I expected to get all the flooring cut, and I’m just finishing the last piece when Jonah appears in the doorway between his room and the bathroom.

“Crap. You scared me, little man.”

His hands are plastered against his ears as his chest heaves. I turn off the saw and walk over, crouching in front of him.

“Too loud,” he huffs.

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault. I lost my pencil, and it took me longer than I expected.”

He won’t look at me, and he’s still breathing hard. Is this how his meltdowns start? I feel terrible that I might have triggered this. Reaching behind my ear, I grab the Sharpie, remove the cap with my teeth, then quickly draw a flame on my arm.

Jonah slowly uncovers his ears, interested in what I’m doing. “What’s that?”

“It’s a flame.”

“It doesn’t look like a flame. It looks like a blob.”

“You just gotta color it in. Do you have any markers?”

His eyes light up, and he runs into his room, returning seconds later with several markers. I sit on the floor and hold out my arm as he adds colors, attempting to fix my piss-poor drawing. When he finishes, he looks up at me, his eyes pleading, so I hand him the Sharpie and watch as he adds way cooler flames to my arm.

“Thank you for fixing my lights,” he says without looking up at me.

I think back to earlier in the week when I installed the dimmers in his room. I could’ve sworn I’d turned off the breaker to his room, but it must’ve slipped my mind, and I zapped the hell outta my hand. But the look on Jonah’s face right now makes it all worth it. I did that for him. I brought him peace. If only I could do that for his mom.