I was like a zombie for the next couple of hours, trying to process Kujo was finally free, back home, and on the slow lane out of my life. I knew I should be ecstatic and thrilled. For once in my life, I'd achieved what I'd set up to do. And it was no less than releasing a captive being back to its home unharmed, safe and sound. I'd had a lot of help, yeah, but I'd done it! That alone should've made me feel happy and proud of myself. Yet, I felt like crap. I'd grown too fond of Kujo for my own good, and now I felt like I'd just chopped one of my hands off or something like that.

And there was something else scratching the back of my head. The next day I'd be back to Blotter Manor all by myself. No more adventures, no more thrills, no more one-night stands with dubious celebs. Everybody would go back to their lives, and I would go back to my silent, solitary existence, in which nobody, living or not, had any need of me.

Okay, I should better start taking notes about this for a big fat weepy drama, instead of feeling so pathetically sorry for myself.

While I tried to weed my way through so many mixed emotions, I let Brandon take me back to his truck and drive me to the hotel where all of us would spend the rest of the night. I remember thinking I should've guessed it'd be a five-star, considering half of our merry party were used to that kind of accommodation, but I don't recall the name of the hotel or even the town.

As soon as our check-in was done, Brandon left the others behind to take me to the elevator.

"How are you feeling?" he asked with a warm smile, keeping my hand in his.

I could only shrug. It was true: I didn't know.

Off of the elevator, I let him lead me down the hallway to a door he opened with the card in his hand. I walked in and heard him follow and close the door. But he stopped just two steps in, so I turned to him with a mild frown.

"D'you want me to stay? Or should I get another room?" he asked softly, his eyes assessing me from behind his thick glasses.

I faced him, still frowning. What was he talking about?

"No need to stay if you don't want to," I replied, stating the obvious.

He nodded with a quick smile and dropped his bag on a chair, coming to take me in his arms again.

"Of course I wanna stay."

He didn't even try to kiss me. He held me tight without a word, like back in Pennhurst, letting me rest my face against his chest with a shaky sigh.

"Let's go to sleep," he whispered.

We got undressed like we'd been married for fifty years and got in bed in only our underwear.

"Shouldn't we change your dressings?" he asked.

I just shook my head, ignoring the discomfort of my burns to stick to his side. He lay on his back, his arm under my neck, and let me rest my head on his shoulder, guiding my hand to his chest.

"Night," he muttered, kissing my forehead, and turned off the lights.

His phone woke us up what felt like five minutes later. It was morning already and the sun was high in the sky. It was Isaac, to let Brandon know they had tickets booked for a flight to LA in the afternoon, and to ask if he wanted to stay in the hotel and check out at noon. We were in the same position we'd fallen asleep, and Brandon held me tighter to his side as he answered his friend.

"Feel like breakfast in bed?" he asked when they disconnected.

I nodded, brushing his chest with my cheek and making him chuckle. It felt so good, there with him, like that. I heard him call to ask for our breakfast and tried to go back to sleep for five more minutes, but he wouldn't let me.

"Hey, I really need to go," he said, amused when I wouldn't let him move from my side.

So I released him and rolled over, pulling the covers up to my head. He got up and I heard him go to the bathroom and move around. Somebody knocked on our door a moment later. Breakfast already? Shit. I was forced to sit up in bed, rubbing my face and scratching my hair in my usual awful turn-off fashion.

Watching Brandon Price roll the breakfast tray in, still wearing only his black trunks under the open bathrobe, helped a great deal to get me wide awake. I would've punched myself. Had I just spent the night with such a man and done nothing but cry myself to sleep over a half-breed demon, no matter how lovely? Jeez. How could I? No wonder I was heading back to a solitary quiet little life in the middle of nowhere all on my own. I totally deserved it.

He rolled the tray around the bed to park it right by me and pulled up a chair to seat at the other side.

"Thanks," I muttered, accepting a steamy cup of coffee before I heard myself ask, "Do we need to talk?"

He raised his eyebrows, open mouth, loaded fork halfway from the plate, and turned to me. His eyebrows came down to one of those frowns he wore when he wondered if I was joking.

"I don't know," he replied. "But I'm game if you want."

"Not for talking."

I sank my face in the coffee while he laughed heartedly.

"I think I like you in the morning, Francesca Garner."

"Fuck you, Brandon Price."

He pushed the tray away enough to come to sit on the bed in front of me, pulling it close again to keep eating.

"This is like the shitty part," he said matter-of-factly. "I like you, I feel fine around you. But is that enough to ask you to come with me? I don't think so. I'd like to stay in touch, though. Don't know what for, but I'd like to."

"Nothing like brutal honesty for breakfast," I muttered.

"Sorry. You don't look like someone who needs sugarcoating."

"Thanks." I smirked, shrugging. "Yeah, you're right. I already thought about all that and came to the same conclusion."

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed again under a mild frown, and reached out to brush my hair behind my ear.

"I'll be dropping by now and then, to check on the progress of the guesthouse repairs," he said, and winked. "And I may need accommodation for the night."

"Don't even think about it."

"You wouldn't wanna see me?"

"I'd fall for you, you moron. The last thing I need is to spend my time counting the days till your next visit. Forget it. I'm too much of a fool for that kind of thing."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Swear it's the first time I'm turned down because of something like that."

Lucky me, I recalled all my wise ramblings having breakfast with the Blotters. I fished his hand from the comforter and kissed his fingertips. I met his eyes, still holding his hand, and tried a grownup pose.

"You need time, Brandon. You've been affected by nasty, unhealthy entities for the last seven years. Bet when you get home tonight, you'll find out you're not sure about your favorite brand of beer." I shrugged again, doing my best to keep smiling. "You gotta find yourself again and have a blast with the reunion. 'Cause you're a great guy to have around."

He hardly let me finish, stretching toward me to take my coffee away first and kiss me a heartbeat later. I was done crying, at least for now, so I wouldn't let him escape again.

He took me in his arms, his lips sliding down my neck, and— Enough. Another moment for my private history books. That's all I'm gonna say.

I cuddled in his sweaty arms, both of us out of breath, and looked up to find his warmest smile yet, that turned a bit sad when he met my eyes.

"I wouldn't wanna lose you," he whispered.

"You won't," I replied, kissing his raspy chin. "I may not be there with you, but I'll always be there for you."

He bent an arm under his head, resting his face on his biceps as to make my infernal butterflies breed like infernal rabbits.

"I'm not sure that's enough."

"Oh, shush. I'm the romantic fool. You're the Haunter supreme."

He turned to look up at the ceiling with a deep sigh that lifted me at least a couple of inches.

"I don't know anymore," he said, thoughtful, and shook his head slightly. "All this changed me. I'm not sure I wanna keep doing it. You're right I need some soul-searching."

"Maybe it's time to let the wingmen fly solo."

The way he looked back down at me told me he hadn't gotten it was a joke. Shit. If he kept nestling his face on his biceps like that, I would have to chain him to the Manor basement. Yeah, and I wouldn't miss having a prisoner in the corner. Win-win.

"Yeah," he said to my surprise. "I need to think about it. I really like producing. That would keep me near the action but out of the dangerous locations. Let others take the risks."

"Oh, shut up. Like you can live without a camera rolling nonstop on a closeup of your pretty face."

His laughter made me realize what I'd just said. Good thing he didn't get mad, like he would've only days earlier.

"So no having me over for dinner once in a while, and no coming to LA even on vacation," he said a moment later. "Why? You're a tough bone, Miss Garner."

"I'm tough as pudding, Mr. Price. That's why."

Okay, enough. I couldn't keep turning him down. It got harder and harder, and it didn't make any sense. He was the blank slate of a public figure from the West Coast. I was the lone nobody from rural New England and I'd been but a blink in his life. It wasn't fair that he insisted in any way.

So I brushed his lips in a quick peck and got out of bed. Jeez, I would've killed for a shower. Whatever. I picked up my clothes and started to get dressed.

"Where are you going?" he asked softly behind me.

"Home?" I brought up a knee to the bed and stretched out to kiss him again. "You have a couple of hours left to rest."

Oh, how I hated the sad hint in his smile. He wasn't actually sad, but playing the part because he was too cunning of a womanizer. And maybe he suspected that this memory of him, naked in the huge white bed and smiling at me like that in the morning light, would haunt me for centuries. Which, come to think about it, was more than fitting for the master Haunter, right?

I fled to the bathroom and texted Trisha from there. Good timing: she was about to call me. A thousand times thank God for Trisha.

Brandon seemed asleep when I came out of the bathroom, back under the covers, lying on his side, breathing deep and slow. I would've tiptoed up to the bed for one last kiss, but I wasn't sure I dared and I didn't want to wake him up. So, instead, I tiptoed out of the room.