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“You may have no musical taste but at least you seem okay at being a psychologist.”
She spun in like a desperate tornado on the verge of destruction.
I knew that look; I tasted and recognized the fear.
She called herself a ghost. But I was the one that was going to haunt her.
“The Halloween Boys.”
“Tricks, treats, a little mischief, and monsters everywhere. What’s not to love?”
I was someone who’d been chased, taunted, and toyed with her entire adult life.
The thought of him with someone else threatened to strangle me if I dwelled on it.
No baby
“Furthest thing from it, darling,” I whispered. “I need to taste you.”
