Page 140 of Grim Tidings

I wake up with my heart pounding in my chest, digging my palm against the wounds that have finally healed into silvery, jagged scars. And then I begin again.

I go through the motions of this ordinary life, unburdened from the crushing responsibility of keeping everyone around me alive. Instead, I pour them their beers, and I listen to Nate’s dating horror stories, and I refill their little peanut cups all while my heart keeps a steady beat in my chest and I try not to notice the glaring absence of the woman on the last bar seat on the left. I live my life, but there’s a stubborn corner of my infuriatingly fragile heart that holds on to hope.

I told her to come back to me. I expect her to listen.

A man in a frankly offensive Christmas sweater slides onto Darcy’s stool, and I shoot him a dark look until he abandons it.

Nate laughs into the top of his beer. “Still doing that, huh?”

I grunt in response. Nate’s memories of Halloween have dulled in the way that mortals’ memories of hauntings and spirits always do. He remembers the broad strokes, but not the specifics, his mortal mind replacing the magic with perfectly reasonable, logical explanations.

I’ve been terrified my freshly mortal mind might do the same. It’s why there’s a Post-it note stuck to the corner of the mirror in the upstairs bathroom, DARCY written in black Sharpie, underlined twice.

I wipe down the counter. “The seat is reserved,” I tell him.

“Yes, yes. It’s currently reserved by the ghost of all your pining.” His grin softens. “It’s going to be fine, Gabe. You’ll rally. If anyone deserves things to shake out in their favor, it’s you.”

Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. But I force my face to go through the motions of a reassuring smile and nod because even in this new, humbling existence of mine, I am apparently still eager to provide comfort.

“I think there’s a new shipment in the back I need to unpack.” I need a cigarette and quiet. Preferably in that order. “Try not to steal too many drinks when I’m not supervising you.”

“I shall be as honorable as I am handsome.”

I snort. “So, not at all.”

I duck out of the way of a flicked peanut and disappear down the narrow back hallway. I stop halfway down and drop my forehead against the wall. The memories are the worst back here. I see Darcy everywhere. In the shadows next to the door and in the alcove by the office. Her braid swinging between her shoulders or her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Tonight, I see her standing six inches away, watching me with those big, coffee-colored eyes. Waiting for me.

“Gabriel,” she whispers, and I swear I fucking feel her. Warm and soft and painfully real, standing close enough for me to touch.

I squint into the dark. “These daydreams are getting out of control.”

A low hum. “As far as daydreams go, I think you could do better.”

I freeze, my spine rigid, and slowly turn my head to the side. Darcy is standing next to me, her lips in a small, careful smile. “Hello, Gabriel.”

I stare at her. “Did I fall asleep in the stockroom again?”

Her smile evaporates. “Have you been sleeping in the stockroom?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Gabriel, it’s cold back there. There are like forty-two boxes of vodka.”

“A fine place, apparently, for lying down. Why are we arguing about this?”

She crosses her arms over her chest with a huff. “Because I expected you to take care of yourself while I was away, not lie down on cement floors and accept defeat in some sort of self-flagellation, fallen-angel routine that—”

I push off the wall and lean forward, one hand at the small of her back to scoop her closer, and the other, trembling, against her jaw. I press my mouth to hers and exhale a wounded sound when she doesn’t immediately disappear in a cloud of exhaustion-addled smoke.

“Fuck,” I grunt against her bottom lip. “You’re here.”

Her body melts against mine, her fingers sinking through my hair. It feels so damn good, a grunting, gasping moan tears out of my chest.

“I’m here,” she breathes against my mouth.

“How are you—” I can’t stop kissing her long enough to ask the important questions. “Are you okay?”