Page 8

He studies me for a beat too long before answering. “Rowan.”

I frown.

Rowan.

Where did I know a Rowan from⁠—

Wait. No fucking way.

“Rowan Black?” I exclaim, wondering what the freaking chances were.

He looks confused. “How did you know?”

“We went to elementary school together! Remember? I’m Evie Graves. I used to call you ‘row your boat’.” I gave him the nickname ‘Row Your Boat’ as a joke and rather than being annoyed, he beamed every time I said it.

He looks confused for a second then his eyes widen. “Holy shit. Evie-bee!” And I absolutely adored that nickname. But only when he said it. “My first ever girlfriend.”

He scoops me up into his arms and spins me around. I try to hold onto the white sheet for dear life, but alas, I fail.

When he drops me down, the sheet falls down too, leaving me butt ass naked as the day I was born.

Also, as the day I died.

The point is—I’m naked in front of my childhood crush.

He looks away, allowing me to quickly pick up the sheet. I clear my throat and laugh nervously. “Honestly, you were the best boyfriend I ever had.”

“And you were the best girlfriend I ever had until you moved away. Without any warning, I might add,” he smirks, “You broke my heart, Evie-bee.”

“Trust me. It broke mine too.”

“Shit! I really can’t believe this,” he says, still in disbelief.

I glance at his left hand. “Are you married?”

“No. Are you?”

I brush my shoulder. “Married to the game.”

He laughs, and it sounds like music to my ears. Damn he’s got a sexy laugh. It was deep and smooth. It’s hard to explain. But hearing it gave me some comfort during these trying times.

I remember us as children. He was super quiet and kept to himself. It is probably what drew me to him. Even now, he’s kind of reserved.

He nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I repeat, brow furrowed, confused as to why he was saying that.

“I will help you.”

I scream and launch myself into his arms, peppering kisses all over his face. He looks embarrassed but so cute.

A phone vibrates and we glance over to see it was mine on the tray, right next to the butt plug I had in me during sex. I should be embarrassed but after dying as many times as I have, you learn to not care about the small things.

Trust me, a butt plug in my ass is not the worst thing I have been caught with while I was dead.

It’s been a rough year.

Rowan picks up the phone and looks at it. “Your group chat is named ‘Big Black Men Lovers,’” he says, choking back laughter.