Page 63 of Phantom’s Mate

Jax shook his head and gave a half-laugh. “Dickhead,” he muttered.

Back in the spirit world, Nick and Britt high-fived.

Xander waved his hand at the idling vehicles. “You don’t need to return the trucks—we liberated them from one of Raines’s companies. They’re yours now.”

As he walked away, he called back to Jax, “Thanks for making the right choice. I won a hundred bucks off Flynn—he said you’d shoot us. He has no faith in human nature.”

“More like panther nature,” Flynn yelled, from back by the gate.

“See what I mean?” Xander said. “It’s so unfair. I hardly ever kill anyone anymore.” He turned around and walked backwards, facing Jax. “But if you fuck with my son’s crew ever again, I’ll revert to my old ways. Merry Fucking Christmas!”

He waved, and the visitors—including the truck drivers—walked through the doorway. A moment later, it disappeared.

Nick got up too, and helped Britt to her feet while DB swiped his hand across the window, changing the location. Nick caught a last glimpse of Jax, with his mate’s arms wrapped around him and her head against his shoulder, tears of happiness running down her face.

Chapter 30

DB homed in on their new destination: a small frame house on a quiet street in Louisville, where Britt’s sister lived with her husband. Then he picked up a wrapped Christmas box from where it sat on the ground.

In it was Britt’s old purse, with the letter on top. They figured if they left it on the doorstep, her sister would think someone had found it in the woods, and delivered it anonymously. Which was true—sort of.

The neighborhood looked nice in a homey way. All the houses were decorated for Christmas, and there were lots of bikes and toys and basketball hoops and street hockey goals in the driveways and front yards.

A good place for kids to grow up.

They all transferred themselves partly into the real world—although still in spirit form so they couldn’t be seen—and walked up to the house.

It had a small front porch with rocking chairs on it. One held a life-size Cthulu Santa—octopus head with the tentacles all hanging down the face like a beard.

Britt and Nick stared at it.

“Oh my god,” Britt said.

Nick cracked up. “She really is your sister. I didn’t know the love of giant evil octopus creatures was genetic.”

“Neither did I.”

DB just shook his head and muttered about tentacle fetishes.

It was just getting dark, and the curtains were still open on the front window. Britt could see a Christmas tree inside, a riot of colored lights and tinsel, popcorn strings and colored paper with glitter. A tree made with love by someone without much money.

Beyond that was a red-haired woman curled up on the couch, a blanket over her legs. It had to be Britt’s sister Olivia—the resemblance was obvious.

She was staring into the distance, looking lost in thought. A guy walked in and carefully handed her a cup of tea. As she moved to take it, the blanket slipped, and they could see her protruding belly.

Britt put her hand to her mouth. “She’s pregnant.” And then she said, “She looks kind of sad.”

The man produced a Christmas cookie from behind his back, and handed it to her. She smiled up at him, and he bent down and kissed her temple, touching her face gently.

Nick put his arms around her from behind. “But her husband makes her smile.” He looked at Britt uncertainly. “That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” It was good. But she knew Nick understood what it felt like to be literally on the outside, looking in at the life you could have been a part of. Should have been a part of.

She felt him take a deep breath. “And you’ll be with the rest of your family soon.”

Her heart tore in two. She wanted so badly to see her gramma and gramps again. Even maybe her mom.

But it would mean losing Nick. She turned and put her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she said. “Did you know that?”