Page 105 of Hot Ghost Summer

“Want t’ go say hi?” he asks, but he’s already got the gate open enough to slip through before I’ve given his question thought.

Several of the spectral heifers raise their heads upon our approach. When they shuffle closer, their translucent bodies let the sunburnt yellow and orange grass show through their ribs.

Theo slows, holding his hand out for them to sniff like they’re overgrown dogs. “How was your first night back home? Good, eh?”

From the centre, Brigid’s solid mass ambles toward us. She seems perfectly fine with her new companions.

“You can, um…” Theo clears his throat, and his hand with the rainbow-coloured peace symbol tattooed on the back, strokes the wide space between Brigid’s brown eyes. “You’re free t’ be yourself ’ere, Hollis. This is a ghost-friendly farm now.”

Moved by his endless compassion, the fragility inside me eases. “How did you know that I…?”

“Same way you always know what I need, I reckon.”

Thinning into a fine, breathless line, I easily pass through the lipid membrane of his skin, to stack atom upon atom until my human shape is complete. Solid and real, I stand flush against Theo’s back and slide one arm possessively around his hip. “Introduce me to your ghost cows, Baby.”

“Well, um…” He gestures broadly with his free arm. “I don’t know their names, but… this is ’em. And they’re ’ere. At the rescue centre. Because it’s somewhere traumatised animals go t’ be safe, you know? A sanctuary. And I could offer ’em that. So, I get it—what you said last night—but…”

I can feel his tears through our shared bioelectrical connection and hum in acknowledgement. When I’d told him I was proud of him for setting them free, I’d meant it: not many ghost hunters could handle multiple spirits at once. I place a reassuring kiss on his temple.

“I can’t imagine ever being so angry with the world that I’d take it out on her, like how Jim did with ’em.” His fingers maintain a steady up-and-down through Brigid’s black and white fur as he sniffs back his tears.

“It was an impossible situation to be in.” I aim for reassurance. “He was drowning under the weight of it all.”

“He was too proud t’ reach out and ask for help, you mean?” The tension in his body is palpable.

I squeeze him just enough to get his attention. “Eyes on me, Baby.”

Chocolate-brown and filled with fire, they snap to mine. His anger is expected. I’d expected it to be aimed at me when he woke to find I’d taken up residence in his body. I’d expected it when I told him that, technically, he’d died. I’d expected more of it to come out when I spanked him for disobeying me. I should have known it would come out here—and not for himself, but for them.

Theo needs to process all this, and it’s my job to make sure his anger doesn’t fester inside him. Just as he didn’t give up on me, I won’t give up on him. But currently, his anger is aimed at someone from whom he can’t ever get closure. Bowen was nothing more than a victim of circumstance—a puppet—like me, but the man pulling the strings still operates from in the shadows.

“Pride wouldn’t let me reach out for help either,” I remind him, even if it costs me to say it out loud.

His nose wrinkles as he thinks that through. Then the defensive protest comes, “No. That was totally different. You didn’t—”

“No, it’s the same flaw. I didn’t pull any triggers, but neither did I reach out for help. Like me, Bowen had options. I could’ve listened to you earlier. He could’ve portioned off his land, reduced his acreage, and sold the bulk to developers—used the money to tide him over until government help arrived. He didn’t. He saw it as an all-or-nothing outcome. And it cost him everything.”

Theo scoffs. “Everything and half his face.”

I turn him bodily to face me. “It almost cost me everything too.”

He brings his hand to a gentle hold of the side of my face. “But it didn’t. You’re still ’ere, and—”

“G’ morning, Theo,” calls Jayne, her accent notably from further east than here. “And company.”

Startled, he retracts his hand and takes a step away, and I turn my attention to the farmer cutting a swathe through a crowd of ghosts directly toward us.

“You can see him?” asks Theo, mouth hanging open.

“If by him you mean the young man standing beside you who looks dressed for a day in the office rather than standing in a field, then yes. Why? Should I not be able to see him?”

“No. Well, yes.” He scratches the back of his neck with the visor of his cap. “No, actually, because he’s a ghost.” Theo’s cheeks flush. “You couldn’t see him the last time he was ’ere, could you?”

“Last time? No, this is definitely the first time we’ve met.” She holds her hand directly out for me to shake. “Jayne.”

“Hollis, Hollis Nachtmann,” I introduce myself. “Lovely to meet you, officially.”

“Oh, hmm. German?”