She looked at me, and her face broke out into a smile. I shook my head and laughed as she hooked her arm in mine and asked the waitress to bring a round of shots to the table.
“Mike will be pissed if he has to arrest us again,” Sugar said, reaching for her beer.
“Jude was ready to step in if Bailey hadn’t,” Skylar said absently.
“What? He’s here?” Henley asked. She stood up from her seat and looked over my shoulder. “Where is he?”
“He was at the bar,” Skylar answered.
I turned and looked over my shoulder just in time to see someone walk toward the door. I didn’t get a good look at him in the dim light, but something warm ran through me.
Maybe it was the idea that someone was willing to step in and help a woman in need. Maybe it was the alcohol running through my blood. Maybe I was finally letting go of the past and my heart was ready to move on.
A picture of my husband flashed before my eyes. His blue eyes, his strong jaw, the way he smiled at me the first time I met him. My heart hurt, and my eyes filled with tears.
Nope, not ready.
I guess it was the alcohol after all.
Another hour went by when the men finally came to collect their women. Scribe and Henley walked me home. As Devlyn’sbest friend, I counted Devlyn and Henley as my sisters. Scribe being married to Henley meant he watched out for me.
I said goodnight and closed my door, locking it behind me. Tomorrow would suck, but at least tonight I would sleep without the nightmares.
I tossed my keys onto the table and walked down the hall to my bedroom. I sat on my bed to take off my shoes when I heard a throat clear.
My head snapped up, and I was suddenly sober as a judge while I stared into the deep blue eyes of my husband.
My dead husband.
“You want to tell me why some asshole had his fucking hands on my wife?”
Chapter Eight
Morgan
I blinked at the man standing in my bedroom. I shook my head, convinced I was hallucinating. I’d had a lot to drink at the Tavern, but I didn’t think I was drunk enough for the dreams to plague me while I was still awake.
Wait, maybe I wasn’t awake.
I tilted my head and continued to stare at him, waiting for him to disappear. I pinched my elbow; the pain shot up my arm. My mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out.
“Morgan,” Jude hissed.
I closed my eyes tight against the vision. Maybe I had a brain tumor. According to Dr. Claudia, brain tumors caused walking, talking hallucinations. Like those episodes of Izzy and Denny onGrey’s Anatomy.
My eyes popped open. Could I have sex with my hallucination? Would it be the same as when he was alive? If a brain tumor allowed me to spend a few more months with Jude, then maybe I’d welcome it.
Oh God, I was losing my mind.
“Go away. I don’t have time for a brain tumor.”
I stood up and walked toward the bathroom, and he grabbed my arm.
“What the fuck are you talking about, baby?”
“You’re not really here. You’re a hallucination, which means I probably have a brain tumor. And honestly, I’d rather just not know. I can’t take anymore.”
Spirit Jude pulled me into his arms and whispered, “I’m not a hallucination, baby,” and then pressed his lips against mine.
