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Yonas stared toward the bathroom, then checked the bedroom door as if he expected somebody to come running out laughing and admit they had been fucking with him.

Nobody did.

His breathing had gotten heavier.

“Nah.” He shook his head hard and rubbed both hands over his face. “I’m just tired and got too much shit going on at one time. That’s all this is. I ain’t been sleeping right, work got me stressed the fuck out, and now I’m seeing shit. Lack of sleep can make a person hallucinate. Yeah.” He nodded, agreeing with himself.

I folded my arms.

Oh, okay, Dr. Yonas.

This mothafucka had just received a supernatural cease-and-desist in bathroom steam, and somehow he decided the issue was lack of rest and stress.

Apparently, the closet refusing his clothes, the refrigerator opening by itself, and an invisible person writing eviction notices on his mirror still weren’t enough to convince this nigga that perhaps the universe was trying to tell him something.

It was then that I had come to the conclusion that his ass was determined to stay.

Cool.

If Yonas wanted to keep convincing himself he was exhausted instead of haunted, I could work with that. But by the end of the night, sleep deprivation was going to be the least of his fucking concerns.

Yonas sat on the edge of the bed and pressed his palms against his eyes. He took several slow breaths as if he could regulate the haunting right out of his nervous system. “I just need some sleep.”

You need a hotel, nigga.

About fifteen minutes later, Yonas had changed into his boxers and settled against the pillows. I was standing near the window, trying to decide whether I wanted to move his luggage again, when I noticed Yonas smiling down at his phone.

I frowned.

What the fuck you smiling at?

He tapped the screen and enlarged whatever he was looking at.

That was when I saw her.

Lakelyn.

A picture of my woman.

My eyes narrowed.

It was obviously from when they were together. Lakelyn was wearing some fitted dress, smiling into the camera, and looking fine as hell.

I could admit that.

What I couldn’t understand was why this nigga was lying in my guest bed looking at it.

Yonas sighed quietly. “Man…”

I folded my arms.

Man, what?

He stared at the picture a little longer, then settled farther beneath the covers. I watched his free hand disappear and paused, looking toward the ceiling for a second before turning my attention back to him.

Nah. I know this nigga ain’t about to beat his dick on my expensive-ass Egyptian cotton sheets.

My eyes narrowed when he shifted farther beneath the covers.