Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (12)

“Ouch, thanks for that. I’m twenty-eight, and to answer your question about Hallows, I’m not allowed to go. Most prestigious businesses here forbid their employees from attending. Especially prominent folks like myself.”

“Yeah, you didn’t answer the question. Are you going?”

“Like I said, overrated. But even if it weren’t, I’m afraid not. I’m not into all that Halloween stuff.”

I laughed. “You moved to the wrong town then, didn’t you?”

He shut the hood with a slap that made me jump. “Didn’t move here. Born and raised. First generation, actually.”

I watched him wipe his oily hands with an old rag. “No shit? So you can trace your family all the way back to the first people?”

“Sure can. My grandfather had a big family tree mapped out that went all the way back to the beginning. The beginning where all the ghost stories began.”

“What ghost stories?”

He smirked that infuriatingly handsome smile. “Oh, you’ll hear about them. Anyway, that brings me to what I wanted to tell you about. I host a free therapy group every Saturday at Lamb’s Blood Church downtown. It’s open to anyone needing support.” He shrugged. “There’s stale pastries and really shitty coffee.”

I chuckled softly. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know how long I’ll be in town for.”

His lips narrowed into a hard line. That angry sense from earlier overwhelmed me. “Did I say something that upset you?” I dared to ask.

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I met my best friends at a church. I was in a really low place. They’re like brothers to me. Just give it chance. Perhaps give Ash Grove a chance while you’re at it.” He finished, sliding back into the car after returning the tools. I couldn’t even see anyone inside the dim gas station. Was it empty?

“Ash Grove isn’t the problem, Dr. Cove. I am.”

His grip tightened on the wheel. “From what you told me earlier, it sounds like your stepfather is the problem, not you.”

I shrugged. “If I stay, people could get hurt. Whether the hurting comes from me or from him, it’s still my fault.”

“What if he doesn’t find you this time? Have you thought of that?”

I looked out the dark window as we stopped next to his car. “I can’t allow myself to dream like that. Not anymore.”

He didn’t immediately get out like I thought he would. Maybe him being a therapist felt like a free pass to share openly with him. More openly than I would anyone else. It felt . . . different, though, than it did with Dr. Omar. He was so close I could feel his warmth. I could smell his pine cologne and see the stubble on his cheek. I wanted to rub my fingers against it. I wanted to rub other things against it too.

“Listen, Blythe, I know you hardly know me. But I also know that a girl as young as you shouldn’t be living like this. It doesn’t take a psychologist to see that you have PTSD, and for good fucking reason. You need support. You need a community. If you get a letter here, if you see or hear anything from your stepdad, tell me.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes and I hoped the darkness concealed them. No one had ever asked me to stay. No one had ever offered to help. I’d only just met Ames Cove and already he was kinder than anyone in fifteen states combined. If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t be offering his help. The truth I tried not to think about. The truth that made this entire situation even more terrifying than it already was. I nodded. “Okay. But I don’t want to put you in danger.”

He chuckled darkly and looked away. “I mean, I’m useless in a fight. I was the punching bag in school. But I have buddies in law enforcement. Let’s just try, alright?”

“Thank you . . . Ames.”

He smiled and I swore it glowed with moonlight. “See you tomorrow, Blythe.”





CHAPTER 6





Ames





THE FIRST RULE OF MONSTER CLUB





Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

Steven King





I waved my Little Ghost off with a dopey smile as I hunched into my Mustang. My Mustang that smelt like a delicious coriander explosion. Worth it. She drove off in a functional vehicle, not the death trap she rode in on, and I scrolled my phone, satisfied. I watched as the little blue dot turned onto Crescent Drive and blinked in the direction of her apartment. My gaze didn’t falter until the blue dot stopped right outside 154 Locust Road. Home safe . . . for now.

She was smarter than I thought, catching me fucking with her car in the lot. I didn’t think she’d see me in the dark. But I guessed a life on the run had sharpened her senses somewhat. That was valuable information for me to have. I stuck one tracker near the back of her tire. The other I put deep under her hood when I was changing the dangerously broken headlight. Seriously, the girl was going to get herself killed. Good thing I came along. I shouldn’t have to do this. My skills alone should have been enough to track her. But I didn’t feel her at all. Why?

I watched the blue dot for a moment longer before reversing and speeding down the highway. It didn’t matter. Tonight was boys’ night. Finally.

An hour and several rural back roads later, I spun into the lot of withering grass. From there it was a short hike through the pines before reaching the old, dilapidated structure. The moon was my only source of light. Creatures of all sorts murmured in the forest. I wondered if there was anything out here more dangerous than me. Unlikely. My cell lost signal, but it didn’t matter. I’d already emailed the file out and the guys undoubtedly read it. They combed through every detail the same as I did. I never cared that there was no signal out here. It had always been a positive, especially for the bodies we put in the ground throughout these acres. The bodies that didn’t make it to my graveyard. But tonight, unease pressed against my spine. I futilely pulled up my phone but couldn’t access the blue dot. It felt . . . wrong.