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She shakes her head with a tired smile, folding a slice of pizza in half as she brings it to her lips. “I like you enough to not subject you to that.”

We sit on the sofa with the cardboard box between us. Her shoulders sink deeper into the cushions as she half watches the movie. I keep my distance, giving her space. The last thing she probably wants tonight is some guy crowding her after dealing with assholes all evening.

Growing up in foster homes meant always living in rooms that never truly belonged to me. I ate at dinner tables where I always felt like a guest waiting to be told it was time to leave. It was always temporary. Weirdly, Anna’s apartment doesn’t feel like that. It’s warm and intimate. This is what a home is supposed to feel like, I realize. This quiet comfort, where I can exhale and actually kick my feet up.

I do just that, settling into her space, just to try it out for a bit. I gesture toward her feet. “Let me see.”

She stretches her legs across my lap and I dig my thumbs into her arches, rubbing slow circles. She sighs, the sound filled with soft relief.

We study each other; the look between us says it all. We continue the game we played on the rooftop, the one where we read each other’s thoughts without acknowledging them. I’m into her, but I’m not going to take what she doesn’t freely give. I’m not like those other men.

Her brows pinch together. “Do you want some pizza?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

I cock my head to the side, lazily grinning as I stare longingly into her eyes. “I’d rather lick a battery.”

She takes an obnoxious bite and I grimace.

“You’re missing out,” she says, acting smug.

I drop my chin. “On that hate crime?”

She laughs mid-bite, covering her mouth.

Seeing her happy like this makes me chuckle. “I’ll always support you in your terrible choices. I bet Debra would love it.”

“Your possum pal has a sophisticated palate.”

“Well, in that case, I’ve got some cat food that’ll blow your mind.”

She narrows her gaze at me. “You’re right, you are the worst.”

We have our fun, and watch the movie, occasionally peeking at each other. I do it mostly because it makes her blush and I like seeing her face flushed. Eventually, she sets the pizza box on the coffee table and gets comfy, stretching out on the sofa. I work my way up to her calves, massaging the muscles that are probably sore from those ridiculous heels she was wearing. I mean, they’re hot, but after a few hours, I’m sure they do a number on her muscles. She sighs happily, turning her head to watch the movie. Ten minutes later her breathing slows.

She’s out cold.

I alter from a massage to a caress. I’m not ready to stop touching her, not after going so many days apart. After the movie ends I turn it off and watch her chest gently rise and fall, studying her lips, her delicate neck, her hips, her hands, admiring every inch of this woman.

When I realize I’ve been staring at Anna for close to an hour, I slide out from under her. I consider covering her with a blanket, but after all the physical exertion she’s been putting in, this woman needs rest. She’s lighter than expected when I pick her up and carry her. Before I leave, I make sure to plug her phone in next to her, and then I sneak out through the panel in the wall.

Halloween at the Black Rabbit is chaotic, but the good kind. Every chair is full, and we all work quickly to move clients through our Halloween-themed flash special. I tattoo three Casper ghosts, naturally, before lunch.

Kelly has been doing a lot of sexy pinup men in various masks. Logan’s covering black cats, and Thor has been tattooing back-to-back skulls since we opened. The day moves fast; the shop is filled with the sounds of buzzing machines, snapping gloves, and blue towels ripping off the roll. It’s madness, just the way I like it.

By the time five o’clock rolls around, I’m bolting out of the shop. I drive home to feed Debra and take a quick shower, scrubbing away stencil ink that transferred to my arm earlier and washing off the smell of antiseptic.

I change into a white T-shirt and jeans, then throw on a red plaid shirt overtop, not taking the time to button it up. We’re having an unusually warm October, so tonight I’m leaving my jacket at home. Before I head out, I grab a couple supplies—and my beguiling wolf mask. But before I head over to the Harvest Festival, I have to make a quick stop and pay someone a visit.

The guy lives in a beige town house in a development that looks like it was designed by someone who hates individualism. Identical houses with matching little lawns. Most of the porches feature pumpkins and Halloween decorations, but not this guy’s.

TJ Townsend. The dumbest motherfucker on the block. I double-check the address on the picture of the ID from Starlight.

Yup. This is the place.

My foot taps against the floorboard. This dude better get home soon or I’m going to have to postpone our meeting in order to get to the Harvest Festival on time. Anna’s already there, probably running around and making sure everything is perfect.

My fingers drum on the steering wheel, pausing when a car turns onto the street. “Come on,” I mutter. I hold my breath, praying it’s him. The garage door opens and I breathe a sigh of relief. Looks like I won’t be late after all!

A few moments later he steps out the front door and sets a bowl on the porch, likely candy for the trick-or-treaters, then disappears inside. I secure my mask, then hop out of my car and stroll up the sidewalk, enjoying the satisfying crunch of dry leaves under my boots.