“I do. Thanks, Hols,” I tell her softly. Have I really stumbled upon a real best friend, despite my best efforts? What the fuck, Fate?

“Anytime. And anyway, it’s about time you get your ass in gear. God knows there are no good ones left out here in the county, or at least not ones with all their teeth, jobs, and looking for an insta-family.” Holly laughs, but I don’t think she’s joking.

“You’ll find him. He’s out there. Maybe try hitting him with your car? It’s working for me,” I tease.

Holly huffs out a loud laugh of surprise. “I’ve created a monster. And I’m not hitting any of these losers’ trucks with my car.” She gestures outside, including everyone in our little area. “They’d probably run right over my little car, anyway.”

“True, there are an inordinate number of jacked-up trucks out here. What’s up with that?”

“Dick replacement therapy,” Holly says wisely. I guess she’d know better than I would. “Help me get Mrs. Cochran’s blouse on before you head to work.”

I look down at Mrs. Cochran, noting that while Holly has been life coaching me through a crisis, she has, in fact, made the woman on the table look as though she’s sleeping peacefully.

Right down to her rosy red lipstick.

“She looks great, Hols. Love the lipstick. It really goes with the blouse.” And it does. Mrs. Cochran might’ve never worn red lipstick when she was alive, but it looks good on her with the navy blue and red floral top her family selected.

I grab gloves and pick up one side of the cut blouse while Holly picks up the other, sliding them on Mrs. Cochran’s slim arms and tucking the open edges under her shoulders and behind her neck.

Holly closes the buttons and then gives me a serious look. “Promise me something, Zo.”

“Anything,” I say, matching her serious tone.

“When I die, do not let my dad prep my body. There are things he doesn’t need to know.”

I break a smile, knowing that her conservative father would be mortified to see Holly’s tattoos and the belly-button piercing she keeps hidden. “And for the love of fuck, do not bury me in a bra. The last thing I want to do is spend all my haunting years digging at my underwire.” She wiggles around as though her torso is being poked with a cattle prod.

I do laugh at that. “You’d rather be the floppy phantom?”

“Of course. That’s some scary stuff right there. I’ll knock you out with these babies.” She shimmies her shoulders and her boobs shake, even in their current bra containment. I have to admit, Holly doesn’t just have ‘girls’ but full grown-ass women.

“I got it—no bra, and I’ll do the prep. But you’re not dying anytime soon.”