Page 57

“I-I–” I pause, tilting my head as the ghostly figure of my mother glares at Callum with nothing but evil intent. Oh no, she doesn’t. “Do not look at him,” I say sternly to my mother’s ghost.

Standing from the sofa, I march over to my kitchen with haste. Callum glances from me to the television and then back to me as I walk past him.

“What … Who are you talking to?” he asks, sitting up.

“Ah, yes.” I tap the date on the calendar. “I thought tonight was the full moon.”

Walking over to a cabinet to grab a mason jar from the top shelf, I press up on my toes. When I can’t reach the damn thing, I press up a little higher and then resort to jumping. When that also doesn’t work, I begin to climb onto the counter. Callum’s exasperated sigh echoes across the space as he stands and walks over to me.

“I got it,” he says, reaching over my head for the mason jar. He places it in front of me on the counter, and I snatch it into my hands. “What’s this about?”

He spins me around, caging me in against the countertop. My eyes flick to the living room where my mother’s ghost is still lingering, and then back to him.

“Moon water,” I say, holding up the mason jar cupped between my palms. He narrows his eyes at me, shifting down to the moon water before glancing over his shoulder.

“Ah, of course. Moon water, duh,” he says sarcastically. “Now tell me what you see behind me.”

“It’s my mother.” I sigh, eyes flicking to her silhouette again.

“I figured as much,” he says, nodding. “And the moon water?” His mouth twitches as he looks at the jar in my hand.

“Moon water is no laughing matter, Callum,” I say, glaring up at him.

“No, of course not, love,” he says, grinning down at me.

He lifts a hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he withdraws them. If all of it weren’t so damn adorable, I’d smack him for insulting my rituals.

“You put water in here,” I say, tapping the glass, “and then you set it out overnight during the full moon.”

His smile widens, forcing my own to match. “And then you … drink it?” he asks, as though genuinely curious.

“Well, you can, yes,” I say. “But I’m going to use it to help cleanse the space of”—I pause, my eyes flicking to my mother’s ghost—“spirits that have no business being here.”

“Of course,” he says, arching a brow and biting the inside of his cheek to hide his amusement.

I set the jar down on the counter to my right and playfully push his chest with my hands. He draws closer as his hands find the small of my back, pulling me firmly against him.

“You are so fucking adorable, you know that?” he asks, eyes wild with that recognizable hunger that has my heart rate climbing.

He leans down and places a kiss on my forehead, and I think that my body leaves my soul at the precise moment his lips brush against my skin. He runs his hands down over my ass, lifting until I’m seated on the counter with him between my thighs. When I glance around him toward the living room, I find that my mother has thankfully vanished.

“Is she gone?” he asks, noticing my somber expression.

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, she is.”

He stares down at me in silence as if trying to discern my emotions about the whole ghostly mother situation. I give nothing away, at least, I don’t think.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, running a knuckle up and down the side of my thigh.

“Yeah, I think that I do,” I say, admitting it to myself for the first time. In an unusual turn of events, Callum bared his soul to me this morning. It’s only fitting that I let him into mine.

“Come on,” he says, lifting me from the counter.

Wrapping my legs around him, he carries me to my sofa and sits me down, taking a seat beside me. He tugs my legs over his own, running his hand up and down my shin absentmindedly. The wholesome gesture sends a million little moths flittering along the confines of my stomach.

“Whenever you’re ready, love,” he says, continuing to trace slow patterns along my leg with his fingers. “I want to know all of the things that live in that pretty little head of yours. I want to hear every thought, every shadow. Especially the ones that claw at your insides when the world goes quiet and dark. I’ll banish them. I’ll make sure that they no longer possess the power to haunt you alone. Not anymore.”

I’m so taken aback by his candor that all I can do is stare open-mouthed for several long seconds. His eyes never leave mine, and he maintains that stoic expression that tells me he meant every single word. The moment is so emotionally charged that I have to fight hard to hold back the happy tears threatening to fall. And to be completely honest, my tears aren’t the only things falling. I lean my head against the side of the sofa and exhale a long, slow breath.