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My eyes snapped open and without my glasses all I saw was a smooth expanse of tan skin before me. My entire face was glued to it.

I blinked and did my best to focus, realising what I was looking at when Ryan’s head turned to the side and he looked at me over his shoulder. My hand was thrown over his waist, his bum nestled against my crotch.

“Morning, love.” He smiled and I felt myself blush as he wiggled around to get on his back, scooping me up against his chest.

“Hi,” I said, slurping when a pool of spit dribbled out of the corner of my mouth and landed somewhere on his skin. “Bugger. Sorry.”

I wiped it with the back of my hand, feeling my cheeks flush because that had to have looked gross. And I didn’t want to be gross with him. I wanted him to like as much of me as possible so the iffier, overly flirty, psychopompy, weirdo parts seemed smaller.

“All good, love.” He leant in to kiss me, drool and all.

“Kinda yucky here,” I said, turning my head away from the kiss but he grabbed my cheek and held me in place as he invaded my mouth. I moaned softly when he propped himself up over me, my body already coiling closer to him. My senses exploded when I realised I was still naked from the waist down.

His pyjama trousers were brushing against my sensitive skin, and I closed my eyes, arching up into him as my hand found his back again and started travelling lower.

I couldn’t help it. I’d wanted him constantly since the moment he walked into this place. He was like a drug created specifically for me and I couldn’t get enough.

“Ah, ah…” He caught my wrist and brought my hand back up. “We need to talk.”

I froze slightly, heart lodging in my throat.

It’s not that kind of talk, I said to it. We’re not together.

He asked for forever, my heart said, running wild with that simple word.

Not the forever you want, I told it. You need to stop jumping to conclusions around him.

I imagined it stamping a foot on the floor and crossing its arms in a silent tantrum as I turned to the nightstand to grab my glasses.

“About?” I asked, and he shook his phone in front of me.

“Your psychopompness,” he said as he settled back against the pillow, still holding me, and dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

SEE! my heart said.

“It’s like pillow talk for weirdos,” I said out loud, ignoring it.

Ryan barked out a laugh. “It’s exactly like that. So…Hollis, or Theo…or however that works, found some information for us. As far as he can tell it’s mostly guesswork, but we have very little else to go on so I feel like we need to make the best of it.”

“Guesswork is better than no work.”

“You are wise beyond your years,” he said, and I pinched his nipple, making him yelp before he continued. “Anyway, from what Hollis said, you’ll have to do some prep work before even attempting to use your powers.”

“What sort of prep work?” I frowned and he lifted his phone again to show me a bunch of photos of boats, stairs, doorways, and shimmering horizons. It made zero sense.

“Pyschopomps have three major roles.” Ryan highlighted a passage in the essay Hollis had sent. “To meet the dying, to offer direction, and to provide comfort. Hollis believes all three of these need to be fulfilled for a ghost to pass over successfully.”

“That…seems like a lot.”

“Yes and no. Seeing as how you’re human and can’t physically be present at the dying moment of every soul in the world, he thinks you should try and check off task number one by making a dedicated room here at the B&B.”

My eyes lit up.

“Oh, like a little retreat! Like the ones you used to run?” I said excitedly, and he gave me a look that said a lot of things at once and I didn’t think all of them were very nice.

“Sure…” He sighed. “A ghost retreat. Basically, fill a room with stuff that ghosts naturally find comforting so they don’t attack, but also binding so they don’t start wandering off and posing a threat to others.”

“I love that. That sounds wonderful. I know just the room.”