Page 79 of Haunt Me, Maybe

She looked good in the daylight. Too good. Apron tied around her waist, sleeves rolled to her elbows, silver rings catching the afternoon sun every time she reached for a milk pitcher. Her hair was up in a messy knot that kept threatening to fall apart, and every time she tucked a loose strand behind her ear, I had to remind myself I wasn’t allowed to do it for her.

Not here.

Not with customers watching.

Fenn was perched on the pastry case, golden eyes tracking every customer who lingered too long near the counter. He’d declared himself her official shadow for the day—”familiar duties” he called it, with that haughty little sniff he did when he wanted to sound important.

Letting Aven out of our sight wasn’t something we were willing to risk, not now that her power had truly woken. The idea that Gideon could stroll down Main Street at any moment, that one wrong move and he’d sense her before she was ready to face him? It was a fear I’d never known.

Not in life. Not in the years of drifting afterward.

Even when I was alive, I never cared for anyone the way I cared for her. That realization had been creeping up on me, like fog rolling off the river at dawn. I’d spent decades numb, half present, tethered to places while people passed.

Long years of being a ghost taught me how to want without expecting, how to watch without touching, how to exist without mattering.

Then she walked into my attic. And suddenly I felt things again—sharp, stupid, human things. Anger when she was scared. Pride when she mastered a spell. Hunger when she looked at me the way she did last night, eyes soft and unafraid.

I told myself it was because of whatever magic connected us that made her the first person able to see me, hear me, touch me. But even an idiot could see that wasn’t it.

It was her laugh when Briony teased her about “witch drama.”

It was the way she chewed her bottom lip when she concentrated on a spell.

It was the small, private smile she gave me across the café when no one else was looking—like I was the only solid thing in her world. It was the way she’d reached for my hand last night after practice, fingers trembling with exhaustion and triumph, and squeezed like she needed the reminder that this was all real.

I’d fallen for her. Hard.

It was terrifying. Because what right did a dead man have to fall in love? What right did a ghost have to want forever with someone who still had a heartbeat, a future, a life that didn’t include being haunted? Yet here I was, watching her steam milk and joke with regulars like she belonged here—like this little town was her anchor.

Every time she glanced my way, every time that tiny smile appeared, the ribbon at my wrist warmed like it was answering a question I hadn’t dared ask aloud, and it had me thinking real deep, metaphorical shit. Like maybe my curse wasn’t a curse at all. Maybe seventy years of waiting, of being forced to hang around long after everyone else had moved on, wasn’t punishment.

Maybe it was preparation.

Maybe I’d been kept here, tethered to this place, this life that refused to let me go, so I could be here when she arrived. So I could meet her. Protect her. Fall for her.

So I could love her.

The thought hit me square in the chest, but it didn’t hurt the way I expected. It soothed instead. I watched Aven hand over a to-go cup to an old man who always tipped in quarters and say something that made him chuckle. The way the afternoon sun caught the different shades of purple in her hair struck me like a chord.

I loved her. And I wasn’t going to waste what time I had pretending otherwise.

Fenn’s voice cut through my raging thoughts.

You’re staring again.

I didn’t bother denying it. “Yeah. I am.”

It’s unbecoming.

“Says the toad who’s been glaring at every customer like they might steal her apron.”

I am merely vigilant. You are mooning.

I snorted. He had no fucking idea.

“Mooning is allowed when you’re in love.”

Silence from the pastry case. It was the first time I made him speechless, and it was an absolutely enjoyable experience, I had to say.