Page 17 of Haunt Me, Maybe

She nodded, an acceptance of the continued argument between us.

“And at the café? What was that?”

I didn’t think it was possible for ghosts to blush, but it certainly felt like my cheeks were on fire. My behavior at the café was uncalled for. A loss of decorum at the very least. Here I was, accusing her of losing control of her magic, yet I was the one flipping cups and making objects fly across the room.

“That was an error,” I admitted, holding her stare despite the guilt eating at me. “I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on the innocent townsfolk. They didn’t deserve that.”

“But I did?”

She probably took my silence as an answer—it was anything but. I was no longer sure what the correct answer was. I still didn’t want her here. I still didn’t trust her. But I could no longer deny that some part of me was uncertain of where it stood.

“You were…busy today.” I stumbled over the words, at a loss for where they even came from. Here I was, once again communicating with her instead of running her off.

Her lips pressed together in that almost-smile. “I’m not very good at new places.”

I took her confession and dissected it from every angle, as I did with each sentence that fell from her lips. Did she mean she was disruptive? Because I could definitely understand that. Or perhaps she meant she had enough experience with new places to know she wasn’t very good at them.

I didn’t like that thought, because it made me wonder how the knowledge of that came to be. She couldn’t be a day older than me, so that put her age somewhere less than twenty-five. Was that even enough time for someone to have a negative outlook on new places?

“You looked fine.” The words came out before I could stop them, and I scowled down at her. Like the slip was her fault.

The witch blinked. “I did?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “Unfortunately.”

She laughed under her breath—quiet, like she was afraid it might echo too loudly and break the fragile truce we had going. It drew my gaze to her mouth as she tried to curb her lingering subtle smile. The air from the cracked window lightly blew the ends of her hair across her shoulder, and I was reminded once again of how close we stood.

Somehow, I wasn’t panicking over it this time.

“That wasn’t what it felt like,” she finally admitted. “It felt like I was doing everything wrong and people were being kind anyway.”

That was true as well, but I didn’t tell her that. The residents of Amber Grove were too nice to let someone flounder when they could help. I both loved and hated that about them. The witch sat on the edge of her bed, curling one leg under herself while leaving the other down, toes balancing on the floor. The mattress dipped slightly, and I swore I almost felt it, though I wasn’t touching anything. The world was extra vibrant when she was around.

“You don’t have to stay,” I said, sharper than I meant to, because she once again had me off balance by doing absolutely nothing. “You know that, right?”

She looked at the floor for a moment before answering. “I know.”

“And yet.”

“And yet,” she echoed softly, glancing up. “It’s nice to be somewhere that actually feels like home.”

The attic went very still. My hands clenched and released so many times that I finally crossed my arms in front of me to ground them. Something in my chest twisted, unfamiliar and unwelcome. My attic felt like home to her? The idea both broke my dead, shriveled heart and made it beat. And wasn’t that fucked up.

The witch looked around the room—at the slanted ceiling, the old trunk, the window, the quiet corners I disappeared to—trying to give me the privacy to get myself together.

“I won’t mess things up,” she whispered. “I just…want to exist for a while.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I faded a little deeper into the shadows, invisible again, and fought to corral the storm her words started within me. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders and settled back against the pillows like someone who expected tomorrow. Like someone who planned to be there.

I told myself I didn’t care, but I kept watch anyway. Long after the moon rose in full, and the toad returned from his nighttime hunt. The clingy amphibian glared in my direction but said nothing as he hopped onto a cat perch I hadn’t noticed earlier. What an odd bed for a toad.

The two didn’t converse before sleeping, as they normally did, and I couldn’t help but think it was because they didn’t want me to know their secrets. Whatever the reasoning, the toad swiftly fell into slumber while the witch remained wide awake, her gaze never leaving the window.

Shifting on the bed, she tugged the blanket higher on her shoulders to shield against the brisk air. She looked smaller like that, curled in on herself, the confidence she wore during our earlier conversation tucked away like a used sweater. I watched her longer than I meant to; some instinct within me refused to let her sleep without supervision.

And it wasn’t like I could leave, even if I wanted to. Might as well do something useful with my curse. The witch reached for the lamp, hesitated, and then let her hand fall back on the mattress with a sigh.

“You don’t have to hide,” she said, her gaze scanning too closely. “I know you’re still here.”