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“Who’s Max?”

“My neighbor’s dog.”

“Wait.” Zeke set his fork down. “You thought I was a dog?”

Cyn snorted a laugh.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting a grown man-demon-whatever to be in my bedroom.”

Ash stood and carried his plate to the dishwasher. “So, you thought Zeke was a dog, pulled him into bed with you, and now he’s smitten. Got it.”

Cyn drained the sink, turned, and leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “He’s not smitten. She’s a novelty.”

I glanced at the clock on the microwave and rushed to add my mug to the dishwasher. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I have to go.” I placed two small sausage links and a slice of buttered toast on a paper towel. “Remember, gone by the evening.”

I hurried across the living room, avoiding their gazes.

“Don’t worry about locking up when you leave.” After sliding on a pair of ankle boots and grabbing my purse, I rushed out the front door without another word.

I probably should have said more or tried to get them out before leaving, but I ran out of time and lacked the emotional bandwidth for another round of their excuses about why they couldn’t leave.

With so much on my plate, I couldn’t worry about otherworldly beings. I didn’t want to unpack the implications of their existence.

This is Earth. Worry about Earth things.

They arrived here fine and dandy; they could leave without my help. Even if I somehow brought them here, the blank page made it clear the ritual only worked in one direction.

I hated feeling guilty for not being able to help them, though.

Ash and Zeke were kind, but Cyn and Ezra hadn’t set the bar very high with their hostile and cold demeanors.

After making it to work, I slipped back into autopilot, letting routine guide me so grief couldn’t rise from where I stuffed it down and swallow me whole.

As the day progressed, I couldn’t help but reflect on the last twenty-four hours and how much my life had changed forever. Losing Grandma—my only confidante—hit harder than expected.

Strangers and family offered the same empty platitudes, saying they took solace in knowing the deceased had lived a long and full life. The words rang hollow. It felt wrong to sum up someone’s life with a passive brush-off.

I couldn’t dismiss the years spent with Grandma with a simple, “I’ll miss her, but she was old and had her fun, so it’s time for her to go.”

She deserves better.

Sliding another box of essential oils across the floor, I opened it and pulled out the pamphlet on top. I couldn’t shake the cloud of melancholy pressing down, threatening to unleash a torrent upon me. I knew grief would inevitably return.

If Heaven and Hell didn’t exist like my family claimed, what did humans have to look forward to? Elyrdin? That’s what the guys said. But what did that mean? Were they even telling the truth? The more I grappled with what I’d always run from, the deeper my confusion grew.

“Raelynn.”

I looked up from the tiny bottles of oil to see Shane staring at me, his brows drawn tight.

“I’ve called your name three times.”

Shit. “I’m sorry, Mr. Chasteen. I was really focused on learning about this new brand we got in.” I lifted the pamphlet in my hand.

As much as I hated dishonesty, I wasn’t above lying to my boss to avoid another meeting in his office. Avoiding being alone with Shane felt more important than stabbing him with a box cutter or quitting the job I needed—whichever opportunity presented itself first.

“I told you to call me Shane.”

“What did you need?”