“I don’t miss that house,” Rip said as he drove to that house.
Kalli admired the petite, tightly packed homes. “You never told me about that.”
“Would you have believed me?”
“Right. I guess you would have.”
Serissa bounced between the backseat windows. “These houses are both adorable and claustrophobic. I find that amazing. They’re just so wee. How do people fit in them?”
Rip continued, “But still. Male ego. Wasn’t planning on telling anyone about my childhood nightmares.” Certainly not her.
“Nightmares aren’t dangerous,” Kalli said. “Ghosts are. Oh, but not you, Serissa.”
Serissa puffed up and frowned. “Hey now.”
“Especially for a child—a baby, really,” Kalli said.
“I once knew a guy last name of Danger,” Serissa said.
“That Zeno gave me all kinds of horrible thoughts, and I’m a rational adult. Factor in a child’s imagination…”
“Danger could’ve been my married name.”
Rip furled his brow. “I really just wanted to forget it.”
He pulled into the driveway. The old lawn was trim as ever, and, like the last time he was there, it had a “for sale” sign stabbed into the soil.
“Mrs. Danger.” Serissa imbued her pretend name with a suitable flair.
They got out of the car. “So did you forget it or repress it?” Kalli said.
Serissa deflated. “Okay, it was Dangerfield.”
Rip slammed his door harder than he intended. “Let’s see what he thinks.”
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