Page 42 of Haunt Me, Maybe

I was. I knew it. This was going to work. I watched him burrow back into the earth, the traces of magic fading behind him like rain on a scent trail. I stood there a moment longer, staring at the dark line of the woods and thinking about the woman upstairs who’d imprisoned me in a way being a ghost never could.

I hadn’t planned on caring about her. Hadn’t planned on wanting anything at all ever again. But she brought a pulse back to this dead heart. She revived me in all the ways that mattered. I didn’t know how long ghosts got. I didn’t know what happened when curses broke or magic snapped, or when monsters finally caught what they were hunting.

But I knew this: She was here. She was alive. For now, she was choosing to fight.

And so was I.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Aven

The café smelled different once I made the decision to stay. It was still cinnamon and caramel and roasted beans, but there was something warmer beneath it now. Something that felt less like shelter and more like belonging. Like the building itself knew I hadn’t planned an escape route this morning.

I stepped behind the counter with a lighter heart than I’d had in…maybe ever. The café vibrated happily, its ancient magic brushing against my skin like a pleased cat. The windows gleamed brighter. Even the bell above the door gave a softer, more welcoming chime when Briony came in from putting the chalk menu out.

“You look different today,” she said, rounding the counter as I finished organizing the pastry cabinet.

“Different how?”

“Like you slept,” she said. “Like you aren’t about to blow away on the next breeze.”

I laughed and startled myself with it, but the sound felt real. I hadn’t realized how obvious my struggle was to others. So focused on my troubles, I hadn’t paid attention to what other people saw. The goal was for them not to notice me. Well, Briony wasn’t wrong. I definitely got better sleep these past couple of days, and there was one ghost I could thank for that.

Speaking of, Wes was here. Of course. He wasn’t fully visible right now, but there was a familiar chill at my shoulder, a faint impression that told me he leaned against the back wall. Watching. Thankfully, Fenn was still grounding to rid himself of excess magic, or I’d have his eyes on me too. That was far too much surveillance.

Focusing on wiping tables and checking out customers, I did everything I could to keep my mind off the intense pair of eyes drilling into my back, but Wes’s attention rested on me, steady and warm in its own strange, ghostly way. It was no longer laced with anger or irritation, yet somehow it was just as heated.

If I focused on the feeling too long, a shiver of heat danced down my spine, and certain…unmentionable parts of my body tingled. Goddess, I had to get a hold of myself. It was hard to stop thinking about him, though, when even the café made its approval known. The espresso machine hissed in a way that sounded suspiciously smug whenever Wes drifted closer.

At the end of the shift, when the last orders were filled, and only a few customers still lingered at tables, Briony clapped her hands. The sound startled those customers right out the door, but she wasn’t paying them any attention. She was looking at me.

“Clove & Thyme. Tonight,” she announced. “You, me, good drinks, and emotionally questionable life choices.”

The smile I’d worn all day faltered. I even tried backing away so I could escape through the kitchen. As if the kitchen would let me. “Oh, I don’t really⁠—”

“Aven, you’re coming,” she said, and pointed a finger at me. “No excuses.”

“But I have excuses,” I whined. “I have so many.”

I was pretty sure Clove & Thyme was the local restaurant and bar. Not my scene. Honestly, if it was in public and had people, I wouldn’t fit in. I was better suited for places like this: quiet, filled with books, and mundane enough that the interactions were unremarkable.

“You should go,” Wes’s voice slipped into my ear, amused.

I glanced sideways, and there he was. His tousled hair hung down over one eye, but hints of amber and gold shone through. The corner of his mouth curled in a way that was furiously attractive, and I had to avert my gaze. Staring at his cheek was safer.

“I don’t do public activities,” I hissed, and vigorously rubbed at an invisible spot on the counter.

“You don’t run anymore either,” he goaded. “Look how that’s working out.”

I rolled my eyes and gave up the pretense of cleaning. I turned to face him, irritation and nerves winning out over how flustered he made me.

“I could be murdered by embarrassment.”

That was the most likely outcome of me attempting to participate in society. It just wasn’t for me. I’d come to terms with that a long time ago. Too much of my life hiding and living with eccentric relatives meant I didn’t fit in, and I almost always did something wrong to make it glaringly obvious. Wes wasn’t buying it, though.

“Tragic,” he deadpanned. “You can haunt your own building, and I’ll come visit.”

I pretended to count the muffins in the pastry box and hoped ignoring him would make him go away, but I should have known better. Briony stood on the other side of the closest table, polishing a mug.