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The cat is not an option, unfortunately. He doesn’t need words to communicate his ire; I feel it coming off him in waves whenever we’re in the same room.

The townspeople have also not warmed to my presence. There’s a tentacled man named Otto who I’m convinced has romantic feelings for Emma. I didn’t recognize the look in his eyes when Emma was speaking, or the possessive air that surrounded him whenever he glanced my way—until Emma gave me access to her fantastic audiobook collection.

I’ve yet to finish my first tale of love and lust, but it won’t take me long. This story of two beings seemingly at odds who eventually tear down their walls and embrace one another with such vulnerability and hope has left me utterly enchanted.

If listening to more of these stories is how Emma will come to accept me at her side, I will gladly distract myself accordingly during her meetings. I’m already eager for the sun to rise so we may go back to work.

Chapter 6

Emma

“Your shoulders are so tight,” Winston Duke whispers into my ear. He’s sitting behind me, my ass filling the space between his meaty thighs as he works the knots out of my upper back.

I moan, a mix of pleasure and pain as his thumb presses into the space where my neck meets my shoulder.

He chuckles, the sound low and velvety. “It’s because you work too hard, gorgeous.”

“You’re right,” I say with a whimper. “I do.”

For some reason, he starts tapping me on the arm. “Emma.”

I let out a displeased grunt. “Go back to what you were doing.”

The tapping continues, but it gets harder. More insistent. “Emma.”

“What?” I bark out, my eyes blinking open and disappointment washing over me when I realize it wasn’t Winston Duke tapping me 0n the arm after a toe-curling massage. Of course it wasn’t. I’m a small-town mayor, and he’s a devastatingly beautiful Hollywood actor. The tapping is coming from Abe’s steel fingers as he hovers over me.

“You slept through your alarm,” he tells me. “It’s time to start the day.”

I grumble a string of obscenities as I climb out of bed, shuffling over to my closet to grab a teal-and-black pinstripe pantsuit before heading into the adjoining bathroom. Abe stands outside the bathroom with the door open a quarter of the way to allow him the ability to listen in case of attack while still giving me privacy to shower.

He’s allowed me the privilege of playing my morning playlist, mostly Sade, on the speaker next to the sink––so generous of him––but not above volume level nine, so he can still hear what I’m doing. After I toast a blueberry English muffin, slather it in butter, and inhale it in too few bites, I call the hospital to check on Ezra. I’m told their vitals remain stable, but nothing has changed.

A memory works its way to the front of my mind after I end the call. Ezra and I at twelve years old. Their parents had just bought them a trampoline as a birthday gift. We bounced on it until the sun went down and continued to spend the rest of the summer like that.

One day, we were taking turns boosting the other’s bounce, which meant waiting until right before the other person’s feet hit the mat and jumping then, giving the springs the perfect amount of extra stretch to send them launching high in the air. Ezra was boosting mine, and my trajectory wasn’t straight up like it should’ve been, more diagonal, and I landed hard on the grass, breaking my leg.

It was a sweltering summer where I was robbed of pool time because of the cast. Ezra boycotted the town pool out of solidarity. “It’ll be a boring suckfest if you’re not there,” they said.

We spent the last few weeks watching movies inside, baking cupcakes we’d immediately eat, and giving each other temporary tattoos on the trampoline instead of jumping on it. We’ve always been ride or die for each other.

I don’t know how to move through the world without them at my side.

Once Abe, Ziggy, and I arrive at work, I meet with the director of the sanitation department to ensure extra waste bins will be available during the upcoming Founder’s Day celebration. That meeting somehow runs over, and then I’m rushing down the hall with Abe on my tail in order to make it to the following meeting with public works to address the growing number of potholes in the eastern part of town, where flooding is common.

I made sure to leave an hour blocked off on my calendar before the Paranormal Oversight Committee is set to arrive, and when that block begins, I book it to the bathroom to touch up my hair and makeup. The committee is where I want to end up professionally. Once you get accepted by the rest of the members, it’s a job you get to keep for life, barring being deemed mentally unfit to serve. The committee is the final word on issues of justice among our kind, and they rule over every monster town across the entire North American continent. I can’t imagine a higher honor.

When Mom turned down their offer to become a committee member, I was only ten years old, but I was just as baffled as they were by her choice. Who wouldn’t want that job?

As I’m walking back to my office, Beverly approaches, waving her hand frantically above her head. “They’re here early,” she whispers when I get within earshot. “I’ve put them in conference room C.” She knows how much they mean to me. Of course, I planned for this. It’s why I blocked off an hour before our appointment to prepare.

“Thanks, Beverly.” I lean toward Abe where he keeps pace at my side. “Don’t listen to the audiobook during this meeting, okay? I need your full attention on the committee.”

“Certainly, Emma. I’m at your service.”

Those words feel way too good as they settle around me. It throws me off a bit, how instinctively I cling to them. But Abe’s a machine that was built for this exact purpose, so I brush them off.

The committee members get to their feet as I enter the room, bowing their heads in greeting. “Mayor Crane, always a pleasure to see you,” Vice Chairwoman Martinez says as she gives me the two-hand shake.