“Last room,” I murmured, pressed tightly against him. “We’ve got this.”
He huffed, clearly unconvinced, and I leaned up to kiss his temple, lingering, letting my lips brush his skin in that slow, deliberate way that always made his jaw tighten.
“Okay,” he muttered, finally letting a small smile slip. “You get to have your way. Again.”
“Mhm,” I said, grinning. “Luckily for you, I’m fully trained in ghost defense.”
At that moment, Adrian’s laugh echoed from behind a fog bank. Miles’ voice followed shortly after. “Oh, come on! We can hear you two getting cozy in there. Stop stalling and let’s dance.”
We made our way back, and the three of us bumped into other partygoers—witches sipping wine from test tubes, a Dracula fanning himself with a silver fan, a zombie couple laughing too loudly. Each interaction only made me relax more. I wasn’t thinking about the messy parts of my life, or the messier parts of the men. I was just… here, and laughing, and teasing, and letting myself enjoy it.
At one point, a loud cackle made Ethan jump so hard I almost lost my balance trying to catch him. I kissed his cheek to “calm him down,” and he leaned into it, letting the tension melt from his shoulders. Adrian was grinning at us from across the room, and I felt a warm twist of fondness for all three men.
Later, when the music shifted and the dance floor filled up, Adrian found me first, taking my hand and pulling me into a slow, teasing circle. Miles soon joined, elbowing Ethan with a playful smirk. Ethan just shook his head, but his hand found mine, and I pressed closer, feeling the faint heat of his body against mine.
I laughed when Adrian twirled me and whispered, “We’re going to have to get you out of this dress before midnight. Or you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”
“Right on time,” I chuckled, savoring the thrill.
By the time the party was winding down, and we were sneaking away from the crowd to a quieter corner, I felt like I hadn’t laughed this much in months. The tension that had been knotting in my chest for weeks—between the kids, the job, the men, everything—had loosened just a little. I could breathe. I could flirt. I could be alive in the moment without worrying about the next consequence.
“You look drunk. Are you drunk?” Miles threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked back out into the cool night air. Hisfoot caught on the last step and he stumbled forward onto the sidewalk, saving himself from a full-on sprawl with a triumphant flourish of his arms.
“You look like you’re projecting,” I laughed. “Are you okay?”
“He doesn’t have to be,” Ethan said as he helped him find his footing. “Miles and Adrian get to go sleep it off in their quiet, kid-free house, while we deal with three kids hyped up on sugar.”
“We?” I bit back my smile.
His shoulders sagged as he started laughing, and the others soon joined in. We walked and talked the rest of the block, until we spotted the group of school kids on the other side of the street.
“Don’t let the sugar demons see us,” Adrian said, ducking dramatically behind a lamppost that did nothing to hide his lanky form. In fact, all it achieved was getting the attention of the kids across the street.
Sadie saw us first, her little face lighting up instantly.
“Look at all my candy!” Her fluffy booties flapped on the asphalt as she ran toward us, waving her pumpkin in sugar-fueled excitement.
The walk home buzzed with a summary of their night and rather generous offers of prized candy. When we finally made it back to the brownstone, the kids were upstairs and asleep in no time. I showered quickly, feeling the lingering warmth of the party still buzzing under my skin. My Little Pony pajamas were soft against me, and I rolled onto the bed, head pressing into the pillows.
I smiled at the memory of the men teasing me at the party, their ridiculous costumes, and the way Ethan had nearly jumped out of his skin at every minor scare. There was something aboutit, a softness that made me want to stay here, with them, in this little bubble where nothing else mattered.
Then my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I picked it up, and the email preview made me pause. The sender: the principal of my old school.
17
Maren
I raised my hand to knock, hesitated, and then knocked again, quieter this time, as if the second tap might somehow be less intrusive.
“Come in,” Ethan’s voice called from inside his office, calm, measured, but the undercurrent of tension made my stomach twist.
I stepped in, scanning the familiar expanse of his brown leather couch, the neat lines of his office, the dim evening light casting long shadows across the floor. He looked up from the stack of papers he’d been half-reading, his expression softening just enough to make my resolve waver.
“Hey,” I said, my voice a little tighter than I’d meant.
“Hey, yourself,” he replied, standing and moving toward me. There was that casual ease he always carried, but he had a way of studying me that made it feel like he was aware of everything going on in my head.
I sank into the couch, folding my hands on my lap, and Ethan sat beside me. His hand found its way onto my leg, just above the knee, light enough but grounding. A connection that was intimate without words. And that intimacy made the knot in my stomach lurch and tumble.
