Hexed (Never After, #6)

by Emily McIntire

You can’t ever count on a man, but you can always count on the poison that will kill him…or whatever that saying is.

“That’s what my best friend back home calls my little concoctions—potions, like I’m some witch here to steal your soul.”

“You’re a man, honey. I’m afraid there’s nothing special about any of you.”

“Sounds like you haven’t met the right man.” She smiles back, and her eyes dance with mirth. “Sounds like something the wrong man would say.”

That’s the thing about grief, I guess. It steals the air from your lungs just as you’ve finally figured out how to breathe.

“Watch your mouth,” he says slowly, his New York accent coming through strong, dropping the r and elongating the vowels. “You won’t disrespect yourself to me.”

Because fuck her if she thinks I’ll allow her to disappear with another man on her arm when she came here with me.

I’ve been here at some florist called A Rose by Any Other Name for the past hour, staring at thirteen different flowers that all look the same, smell the same, and make me want to kill myself the same.

“In a different life…” I pause, emotion suddenly clogging my throat. “I’d love you out loud.”