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Too depressing.

I change it. A Halloween baking competition. I squint. What is she⁠—

Oh hell no.

A woman is decorating cupcakes to look like black cats. I change the channel so fast I nearly drop the remote.

Fuck that.

I settle on some action movie. Gunfire fills the room.

That’s better.

I lean back and close my eyes for approximately six seconds until my brain decides to betray me.

My jaw tightens. I can still see Chaos standing in front of me in that ridiculous costume. Blonde curls. Black ears. Green eyes staring at me like finding a bleeding stranger in the woods was the best thing that had happened to her all night.

Did you stab someone or did someone stab you?

I snort.

Fucking lunatic.

My mouth almost curves into a smile, but I stop it.

No. We're not doing that.

I pick up my phone.

Nothing.

Of course there's nothing. It's a burner. Only a handful of people have the number, and Callie isn't one of them.

I don't have hers either.

Which is the entire fucking point. Clean break. No contact. No complications.

I put the phone facedown on the coffee table.

Ten seconds later, I pick it up again. I tell myself it’s just boredom, but I know better.

With a grunt, I toss it onto the cushion beside me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She’s probably at the town festival. Maybe with her sister.

Or maybe she's at that costume party I heard someone mention when I went into Bramble & Bean for a coffee before I did the hit.

She’s probably wearing that cat costume again.

My gaze drops to my lap.

Fuck.

I adjust myself and glare at the television.

I'm not thinking about the catsuit. Or the way it hugged her ass. Or⁠—