Page 10 of Halloween Town

Benji’s family, his family…

He met Luna’s inquisitive gaze and lifted one eyebrow, an obvious challenge for her to ask. No one in town, except for Hayes, knew what had caused the rift between him and Benji. And that was how it was going to stay.

Partly because it wasn’t anyone else’s business. Mostly because he wasn’t the type to whine about how he’d been shafted.

What Benji had done made sure of one thing: there was no going back. Not for them. Not for him.

Bastard.

“Where is Wren?” he asked. If Poppy’s best and oldest friend had been here, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with a surprisingly stunning but sobbing, then checked-out, bride last night. His house would be empty, and he certainly wouldn’t have the town’s most lackadaisical witch sitting on his kitchen table. “I thought she would’ve been at Poppy’s side during this shitshow.”

Luna wrinkled her nose. “She picked up food poisoning last week. It wasn’t too debilitating, so she carried on working⁠—”

He lifted his eyebrows. “And Dane was okay with that?”

Dane was a trauma doctor, Wren’s significant other, and back in the summer, he’d struck a deal with Luna to work as H-Town’s resident doctor for two months while she looked for someone to take over ancient Dr. Morris’s practice. Wren had resumed work, and Thom knew Dane was itching to get back to being a trauma surgeon. Luna was running out of time.

“He was concerned and caught the first plane out. When he got there, he took her straight to the ER. She was admitted because she was suffering from dehydration.”

He grimaced.

“When I called her last night, she’d already spoken to Poppy and had discharged herself from the hospital, to Dane’s horror. They were at the airport, about to catch the red-eye.” Luna looked at her watch. “She’ll be here by … mmm, maybe noon. Maybe later this afternoon.”

Thom nodded. “Good. Then one of you can take her home with you.”

Luna shook her head. “Sorry, no can do. I have guests staying for a month, people helping me with the festival. And Wren and Dane’s cottage is only a one-bedroom place. No, she’ll have to stay here.”

Oh, hell no. Not happening. “Take her with you, Luna.”

“You have six bedrooms upstairs, Thomas,” Luna told him, impatient. “A bit later, I’ll shoot home and pick up some of Wren’s clothes for Poppy to wear. When Wren gets here, we can talk about her and Dane going to Boston and collecting Poppy’s stuff from Benji’s apartment.”

Last night’s whiskey churned in his stomach and crawled up his throat, possibly because he couldn’t handle the idea of Poppy living with his brother—sleeping with his brother. He forced himself to think about something else, anything else, and landed on Poppy moving in. “Luna, I moved all the furniture out of the rooms. There’s nothing upstairs.”

Luna gave him the stink eye. “I know for a fact that some of the beds were custom-made for the rooms, and the only way to remove them is by dismantling them. And I’m pretty sure you haven’t done that.”

No, he hadn’t. He’d just stood them, and their heavy-as-hell mattresses on one end and propped them against the wall, thinking that he’d work around them. Since Luna refused to take a hint, it was time to get real. He was done with beating around the bush. He wanted his life and house to go back to being drama- and Poppy-free. “I don’t want her here, Luna.”

“Tough. This was her home, the one place she felt safe.” Luna’s words were accompanied by a glare. “I know you understand that, because this was where you ran to when the world bit you on the ass. You needed to be here⁠—”

Luna held up her hand to silence him. “And so does she.”

“The difference is that I paid a shit-ton of money to be here, and she didn’t,” he muttered.

Luna’s too-thick eyebrows lifted. “Are you really going to be that petty, Thomas Sheffield?”

There was a good chance. He liked his solitude, dammit, liked arguing with the house and his dog. Talking of, where the hell was Felony? Still upstairs? Lazy sod.

“Felony, Luna is here.” He released a high-pitched whistle, and from somewhere deep in the house, he heard Fel’s yelp of excitement. Felony tolerated Luna because she bought him doggie treats. And by tolerate, he didn’t try to hump her leg or pee on her shoe.

Felony, as expected, careered into the kitchen and skidded across the floor, narrowly missing the leg of the table and coming to a panting halt at Luna’s feet. Luna hopped off the table and fondled his long ears, her voice dropping into a low croon. “There’s my good boy, my beautiful boy. How are you doing?”

Felony released an impatient bark and jammed his nose into her crotch. It was his way of telling her that he needed some food-based love. Luna, still on her haunches, showed him her empty hands. Felony released another sharp bark, as if to say, last chance.

When nothing appeared, Felony shoulder-bumped Luna, and she fell on her butt. Then the pissy dog turned his back on her, his body language telling her how disappointed he truly was.

Thom held out a hand for Luna, effortlessly pulling her to her feet. She shook her head and looked at Felony, then at him. “Your dog is a dick,” she told him.

“Can’t argue with that. And he’s not my dog. Grandpa M. found him and brought him in. I just inherited him when I took over the house.”