Page 34 of Hunted, Season Three

However, it’sliterallyalmost Christmas.

The first Christmas I get to actually spend with people I love, living and building a lifewelove, which is something I never thought I’d have.

That I’d live long enoughtohave.

I wanna enjoy it.

Fuck that, I’mgoingto enjoy it.

I refuse to let Brad steal that from me from the beyond.

And if he magically feels the need to go all ghosts of Christmas past on me, I will not hesitate to call the local ghostbusters to assist in him fucking off.

And they actually have that in this town.

Like it’s arealthing.

Posie told me about it.

Where they meet.

How often.

That they call themselvesThe First Vibesclub.

Even their open invitation policy to have anyone join that wants to assist in warding off evil spirits or beings from their homes or places of business.

Not really my thing but sometimes weird times, will wield weird measures.

Such as mauling a stalker to death.

Nolan poorly hides his warmth over the father fact.“Like I was sayin’-”

“Complaining,” I correct while dipping my middle finger into the leftover frosting once more.

“How come he gets praise over his farmer joeman-”

“Manchanic,” Kid huffs on a snatch of a gumdrop.

“-but Icleverlymake you in a bikini-”

“That’s not clever.”

“-and I’mma gingerbread morman?”

“You tryin’ to say Mormon?”Kid questions during another gummy grab.

“No, I was trying to combine moron and gingerbreadmaninto like a pun thing like you did.”

“Ohhh,” our boyfriend nods between smacks, “fail.”

“Epic fail,” I instantly echo.

“Stout Scarab fail.”

“Ouch,” grumbles Mutt while pulling off the two M&M candy pieces to the “bikini” top.

“Cars shouldn’t have fucking mustaches.”

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