Page 37 of A Love Like Candle Light

“Or it could have been the wind,” I point out and motion at her ajar window.

“Could it really?” The longer she stares at me, the less sure I am of it. The same picture frame falling of her shelf twice? Impossible. It was definitely standing securely once I put it back on the shelf.

“I don’t even know if anything will come of it, anyway,” I mumble and tap my chocolate-stained fingertips against the tabletop.

Her face drops. “Why?”

“Apparently, she’s more or less freshly divorced.” I clear my throat. “And… I don’t know. The way she talked about him seemed kind of wistful. Full of regret.”

“Oh, shush. That doesn’t have to mean anything.” She takes a bite of her cookie. I reach for another one too. “I have plenty of relationships I feel wistful about. You can be sad it didn’t work out and still be ready to move on. It doesn’t mean she’s still in love with him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m not.” She glares at me and playfully poked her finger into my arm. “Listen, Erik. I don’t know the girl. I’m just saying ‘she looked wistful’ is an awful reason to keep your distance.”

“Right.” I clear my throat. “Though I’d say knowing each other for two days and sleeping over each of them isn’t exactly a case of keeping your distance.”

She blinks at me. Once. Twice.

“Hon, I’m sorry, but you lost me here. Can we start from the beginning?”

“Sure.”

So, I tell her. Every detail, from the moment I got the call to Kylie’s place. About first meeting her. The first night she spent in my guest room. And how I told her about Lilith. Until this morning, when I woke up on her couch and had to leave before she woke up.

Fingers crossed her ghost only makes itself known when it’s dark. As I stared at her living room ceiling, willing sleep to come, I only heard the occasional soft creaking.

The more I talk about Kylie, the warmer my heart feels and the less I can fight the grin tugging at my lips.

I wasn’t looking for love.

Hell, it’s been years since I last had a relationship. Most women run for the hills the moment I tell them about visiting my dad in jail. And I get it. Paired with the statistics on domestic abuse from members of the police force, both parents being or having been in jail is the worst impression I could give. I can’t fault them for putting their own safety over assurances made by a stranger.

I haven’t missed it too much. After all, even the community here in Wayward Hollow is sometimes too social-battery draining and I don’t exactly go out of my way to chat with anyone.

Does it sometimes get lonely when I return from my shift to an empty, cold, dark house? Hell yes.

But maybe one day that will change.

Hopefully.

Chapter 13

Erik

I drive past Wayward Hollow's main square, searching for a parking spot. It's time for my break and damn, do I need it. My mood is on a new low, my social battery didn’t even charge today. However, my hunger for one of Caleb’s pastries and a proper cup of coffee won over the introverted voice in my head telling me to hole up in my office and wait for the day to be over.

I got to bed late yesterday. Thoughts and memories kept me awake. Plus, a part of me was wondering if Kylie would call me again, but it appears that she's got a handle on her ghost.

Luckily, I find a spot right in front of Caleb's. Perfect. With luck, I’ll get in and out of there in two minutes.

"Hey, Erik." , former owner of Caleb's and today, a regular, greets me as soon as I open the door to the café. There go the two minutes.

Bobby is a stout man in his sixties. His gray hair sticks out in all directions, probably because they’re charged with static by his wool cap, currently resting on the counter in front of him. His cane is leaning against the chair next to him and he’s sporting his usual flannel shirt.

I force a curt smile on my lips and shake his hand. "Bobby. How's it going?"

Caleb greets me with a quick nod. He’s a man of very few words, the only one who gets me.