Page 40 of Haunt Me, Maybe

Her mouth fell open. “You—what?”

I gave her a look, the same one I used when she tried to tell me everything was fine. The fact that she hadn’t yet figured out that the ghost haunting this room was always here at night, without fail, but wasn’t around during the day…She had other things on her mind, I knew, but damn. She didn’t even question it.

“My soul is tied to this attic. It’s impossible for me to come with you.”

Her breath caught, and I thought I saw a sheen in her eyes. Fuck. I would have run away with her in an instant if it were possible. Seeing the world, protecting her, enjoying pockets of time alone with her, and showing her all the ways her body could sing—it was a dream I never believed I could have. I knew she thought she had to go, but it wasn’t true anymore. Not with what we could do together.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to stop him.”

“Then you learn.” Her eyes flicked to mine, framing fear and hope in a tangled mess. “You stop surviving on scraps and tricks,” I continued. “You stop pretending small spells are enough. You learn control. Defense. Precision.”

“With who?” she asked, but she already knew the answer.

“With me,” I confirmed. “And Fenn. We can get you ready.”

I wasn’t even sure if the toad would help me or if he would convince her to run away in the middle of the night, the one time I couldn’t chase after her. I was going to confront him with my plan next. I’d convince him. I had to.

Aven’s gaze searched my face. “And this—” She gestured between us, flustered. “This has nothing to do with last night?”

“It has everything to do with last night.” Her lips parted, and I trailed a finger along her shoulder, basking in her shivers until I reached her neck and cupped my hand around the back of it. “If you need me to spell out all the ways I plan to keep you here, I can.” I let my tone dip, and she inhaled sharply. “But it won’t be subtle.”

She laughed, breathless and apprehensive. “You’re serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything.”

Silence stretched, but I didn’t let her go. My grip loosened, though, offering her the easy way out. If she wanted to leave, to keep running and spend the rest of her life exactly the same way until Gideon eventually caught up with her—well, I couldn’t stop her. But I was offering her another option, one that had a happy ending.

Just when I thought she was going to break my heart and run, she nodded. Once. Decisive but shaking. I let out a breath she couldn’t see and kissed her again, rewarding her difficult and very brave decision. Pulling away, I stared into her eyes once more. I needed confirmation. I needed to hear her say it.

“You’ll practice,” I told her. “Daily. With me and with Fenn. You’ll work at the café, go to the festival, maybe take a hayride.” I paused, my jaw tightening. “You’ll live.”

She dipped her chin. “And after?”

I held her gaze, refusing to look away. “After comes later.”

Honestly, I planned to be there for her as long as she’d have me. After was up to her. She exhaled and leaned back on her hands, those haunted eyes shining with something dangerously close to hope. The restless current between us lightened.

I shouldn’t want this; I knew that. I couldn’t offer her anything solid or real. Nothing she could share with friends or show off in public. But she looked at me like I wasn’t a ghost, wasn’t a temporary shelter, and I knew one thing with absolute clarity: I wouldn’t let her run anymore. Not from him. Not from this. And not from me.

Aven went downstairs with the quiet determination of someone trying not to think too hard. I waited until I heard the creak of the attic stairs and sensed her moving around the kitchen before I phased through the outer wall. The yard greeted me with crisp autumn air and the smell of damp leaves.

The house settled behind me, unaware that I’d left, as I closed my eyes and searched. Magic left residue. Not like fingerprints, but more like warmth after a body moved away. A pressure in the air clinging to places where power sunk its claws in and refused to let go. A faint hum—if you knew how to listen. After these past few weeks around Aven, I’d learned.

I followed it past the fence line and toward the edge of the property where the land sloped down, and the trees grew closer together. The trace grew stronger where the leaves piled in drifts, under a snarl of fall bushes—rust-red sumac and blackberry brambles stripped bare.

There. Where the juniper needles stood out sharp and dark against the dirt, the ground shifted and soil bulged. I stopped as a squat, mud-caked shape heaved itself free of the earth like a nightmare born of moss and bad attitude. Fenn emerged with a grunt, dirt clinging to his warty hide.

He shook himself once, clods tumbling off his back, before he fixed me with a stare that could curdle milk. Well, someone was ecstatic to see me. Obviously.

We stared at one another in silence. I knew he didn’t like me—the feeling was mutual— but there was something else there too. An acknowledgment, maybe. A reluctant respect earned the hard way.

“Fenn.” I gave him a short nod.

He croaked once, low and sharp. What do you want, ghost?

“I want to help her,” I said, plainly. There was no reason to drag this out, despite his attitude.

His eyes narrowed immediately, pupils thinning like a cat. You already did.