Page 69 of Checking Mr. Wrong
“You’re not the reason I’d stay,” she says, her voice trembling. “However, you are the reason it’s going to be hard to leave.”
My chest tightens, and I feel the sting behind my own eyes. I want to hold her here, keep her in this tiny bubble where it’s just us, no decisions or distances pulling us apart. But bubbles don’t last. They pop.
She steps back again, and all I can do is plaster on my smile, again, but she knows me now.
“Don’t do that,” Mabel says, pointing to my face.
“What?”
“That—smile when you’re not happy.” She cocks her head to one side. “No more covering, got it?”
“Fine, then.” I point to my lips, where there is still the shadow of a grin hanging out. “If I do this less, you have to do it more.”
“Please.” She laughs. As she starts to open her mouth to say something, we’re interrupted by a lone cough echoing down the hallway.
“Mabel, I’ve got your house keys.”
I peer over her shoulder to see Murray standing with Mary-Ellen, dangling a set of keys in the air.
“Give me a sec,” she says as she jogs toward them and away from me. I know at this moment, she’s coming back, but after this, when she isn’t?
I don’t know how to do this—how to let her go when she’s the only thing that’s made me feel alive in years.
But I do know one thing. She’s wrong. I might be safe now. I might be allowed to be myself.
But without her? None of it feels real.
CHAPTER 24
MABEL
Halloween night—theone time of year when people actively try to scare children and get praised for it. The night of sugar highs, plastic fangs, and adults using “costume” as an excuse for chaos. And me? I’ve been put on strict front-door duty. No roaming, no sneaking candy (yeah, right), and definitely no abandoning my post.
Mom says it’s because I’m “good with kids.” I say it’s because she doesn’t trust Murray not to give out her private stash of imported chocolate. Either way, I’m here. Holding the line. Bracing for the night to get weird.
The doorbell rings just as I’m wrestling the candy bowl away from my mother’s clutches.
“For heaven’s sake, Mabel,” Mom says, narrowing her eyes at me like I’m committing some kind of Halloween felony. “You can’t give out the Twizzlers first. You save those for the kids who show up late. They’re practically begging for leftovers at that point.”
I smirk and pluck a miniature Snickers from the top of the pile. “Mom, if you’re going to micromanage the candy distribution, you’re welcome to take over.”
“I’m supervising,” she replies, waving a hand at the bowl like she’s directing traffic.
From the kitchen, Murray laughs, the sound deep and warm. He’s sitting at the table, where he’s been pretending to help by unwrapping a Reese’s cup every now and then and popping it into his mouth. “Leave her alone, Mary-Ellen. The kids are here for the sugar, not to be told how they have to eat it.”
I carry the bowl to the door, still chuckling at their bickering. Outside, the porch light casts a warm yellow glow, catching on the cobweb decorations Murray strung up earlier in the day. I make a mental note to remind him they’re fake when I see him flinch at one later.
The doorbell rings again, more insistently this time, and I twist the knob.
“Trick or treat!”
I fling open the door and am immediately faced with two pint-sized vampires and what might be the cutest little pumpkin I’ve ever seen. Their faces light up as I hold out the bowl of candy.
“One each, guys. No hoarding the chocolate,” I say, grinning as they dive in with tiny hands.
Their chaperone, a cheerful woman in a witch’s hat, waves at me from the edge of the porch. She snaps a picture of the children before looking at me and cocking her head to one side.
“Wait a second, I know you!” she says, stepping closer as the kids rummage through the candy. Her eyes widen, and I brace myself. “You’re the girl from that video!”
