Free Celeste Files: Unjust by Kristine Mason Page B

that.”
    She looked to him. “Really?”
    He stared out at the water. “Yeah, really.”
    “Well, I wanted to have sex.”
    “Sorry, I’m not comfortable having sex when there’s a ghost stalking you.”
    After being surrounded by the dead, she’d needed a reminder that she was among the living. She’d needed to be with her husband. “Then that explains why you didn’t even bother to look at me when I stripped down to nothing.”
    He turned to her, shifted his gaze to her breasts, then to her mouth before meeting her eyes. “Trust me, I looked.”
    “But?”
    “Aside from not wanting a ghost to judge my performance?” He let out a sigh and looked away. “It didn’t seem right to do anything more than look after what went on at the trailer.”
    “I told you I was fine. Denis—”
    “Is dead. He’s haunting you. Touching you.” John fisted his hands in the towel. “Hurting you, and I can’t do a fucking thing about it.” He released the towel, then stood.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To cool off.”
    “Please don’t be mad. I know this situation isn’t ideal, but I’m trying to make the best of our vacation.”
    He knelt in front of her. “By breaking into a dead man’s home?”
    “It’s not like he could complain.”
    “Are you sure about that?” he asked, touching her chin and sliding his gaze to her neck.
    She shifted her head away. They’d been over everything that had happened at the trailer and she didn’t want to go into it again. Yes, the dead man had marked her. He’d also scared the hell out of her. But she was alive, he wasn’t. From where she sat, she definitely had the upper hand.
    “He threw a temper tantrum,” she said.
    “We’re not dealing with the wrath of our eighteen-month-old daughter. We’re dealing with a man who might have murdered dozens of women.”
    “A dead man,” she reminded him.
    He gave her a mocking smile. “We’ve had some strange times together, but this one tops them all. It was one thing for us to work together to find a serial killer. The drowning in the tub bullshit we went through last winter—I didn’t think your psychic stuff could get much worse than that. But this…ghost.” He looked away for a few seconds before meeting her gaze again. “ He was in our bedroom. And I was asleep. I can’t fight him. I can’t shoot him. All I can do is sit back and wonder when he’s going to come at my wife again.” With anger, terror and helplessness in his eyes, he leaned forward. “Do you have any idea how pissed off I am?”
    She latched onto his arm, and blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to keep her emotions in check. They were on a public beach, surrounded by people.
    “No need to keep apologizing.” He shook his head and stood. “As you’ve reminded me, I knew what you were when I married you.”
    Let me show you what I am.
    Denis’s words taunted her, while John’s infuriated her. John was right. From the moment she’d regained her psychic gift, she’d been constantly apologizing to him. For not being able to control her trances, for being forced to adopt a service dog to help her should she fall into a trance. For the constant worry that she could slip into a dead person’s mind, leaving their daughter vulnerable and in possible danger. For being what she was: an abnormal wife.
    “I need to cool off,” he said. “I’m going for a swim.”
    She grabbed her cover up from their beach bag. “I’m going back to the condo.”
    “Why? I thought you wanted to hang out at the beach.”
    “I did. I wanted to have fun, not fight.” She pulled the cover up over her head, then picked up her sandals. “You can stay here and be pissed off.”
    “We flew all the way down to Florida—without Olivia—and you’re going to sit in the condo?”
    She took a step toward him and ignored the way the hot sand burned the soles of her feet. “You don’t get it. Where we are doesn’t matter