"You're terrified because if you love her, you have to admit that everyone else you hurt actually mattered. You have to admit you weren't 'winning' all those years. You were just lonely."

He put down the glass, smoothed his tuxedo, and started walking toward the one woman who knew exactly who he was—and was still waiting to see if he’d finally grow up.

"Allison?" he croaked. "You’re... you’re supposed to be in Duluth. And forty."

The haunting didn’t start with a chill or a bang. It started with a scent: Midnight Jasmine . "You always did prefer the cheap stuff, Connor."

"She’s the only reason you’re here tonight," Allison said, her voice softening. "She’s the only one who didn't let you break her, which is why you’re so terrified of her." "I'm not terrified," Connor lied, his voice cracking.