Heart, Haunt, Havoc (The Gideon Testaments, #1)

by Freydís Moon

They shifted their eyes to the door. “What do you know about shame?” “I’m Catholic,”

People got better from a burst cyst, from an undercooked pork chop, from an impromptu breakup. But no one fully recovered from loss like this. They simply adapted to the sound of it, calloused to the feel of it.

“Before I slept with you, I daydreamed about you. Now that I’ve been with you, I’m consumed by you. How I feel about you, what I want from you . . . it’s thrilling; it’s excruciating. So, yes, you terrify me, Bishop.”