“No, baby. I blame Donovan, and so should you.”
I ran my hand through my hair. The thoughts came anyway—finding her lying there in her own blood, the bastard hovering over her, getting off on the fact that she was dead. And even though I knew I didn’t make Donovan do those unforgivable things to her… it was my fault that he ever got the chance.
“She needs you too.” Bec motioned to Maggie, who was now playing with Wren and the cats, sing-songing the chant as she showed Wren how to use the mouse on a string to tease them.
“About that…”
“Graham, it’s okay. I need you to move on from me.”
“Never.”
“I need you to keep your life moving. You’re still working toward detective?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
Bec gave me the look again—her go-to when she didn’t like an answer I gave—eyebrow lifted, head crooked, arms crossed. Kind of like the look Maggie gave me earlier on the balcony.
“You’ll never make it if you keep drowning yourself in alcohol and fast fucks to forget us.”
“Definitely didn’t have getting lectured by my dead wife on my Christmaslist.”
“Graham, I’m serious. You’re wasting yourself for nothing. You have a woman here who loves you. I could feel it when she called me. She was willing to bring back your wife not knowing if it’d set you back or scare you off… and you’re too busy wasting time blaming yourself. If you’re going to be with her… she deserves all of you.”
“But Bec. I don’t want to lose you. Not after everything.”
“I’m not saying to forget us, just make room for her.”
I glanced to Maggie. Even though she was inebriated as fuck, I couldn’t help but feel that tug towards her.
“Graham, the way you look at her…” Bec held my hands in hers and brought them to her lips, kissing them once. “It’s the same way you look at me. Let her be what I was for you… Be each other’s nightingale… be each other’s hope in the dark.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t… even if I wanted to.
All I could do was stare at her, take her in for one last time until she faded.
“If you don’t… I’m haunting you forever—and not in the good way.”
One blink and she was gone. Wren too.
I let out a single breath and collapsed to my knees again, staring forward.
Maggie had passed out, leaning up against the couch, arm draped over the seat holding the stick for the mouse toy. Chester batted at it like his life depended on it.
What she did for me was more than anyone else had ever done. Everyone always talked shit about how if I had one last chance to see Bec, what would I say. I always told myself if I ever had the chance to see her again, I’d be a fucking wreck—and I was right.
Sure, I’d talked to Bec a thousand times… but I never thought she’d talk back. I knew no one else probably knew how—I mean, I spent years denying the possibility—but Maggie took a risk, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for it. If it was my last chance to see Bec or hear her voice or feel Wren’s hug, I’d carry it forever.
chapter 19
THE SHORT CUT
Derek
You know,just because I was a paranormal investigator who’d had a casual sexual relationship with Katie and her friends didn’t mean I was okay with it infiltrating every aspect of my life. Technically, I should’ve been used to weird ghost shit by now… but when I returned to the balcony, I learned I was wrong. Katie and Silas decidedIwould be the perfect field reporter to document the entire process and effects of mortal to spectral coitus. And as thrilling as that endeavor sounded… I wasn’t quite ready to flesh out my research onspectrophilia.
Besides… they probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone.
I backpedaled out of there and made a quick pit stop to throw some water on my face, hoping to scrub that imagery from my mind. Trix would be glad she missed out on that little nightmare.
