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“Bet your grandmother would’ve loved to see you drive it.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, by the way, about her passing. We didn’t hear about it till after the funeral, or we—”

“Would’ve come? Yeah, sure.” I fake laughed and turned away.

It had been three years but I could still feel that sharp, burning pain in my throat and that stabbing ache in my chest. Grandma’s funeral was, hands down, the worst day of my life, and yet I couldn’t make myself leave her side. I had waited by her grave site till the streetlamps turned on, and then Lauryn came and walked me home.

“I should’ve been there,” he whispered.

She would’ve liked that.

Maybe a small part of me would’ve too.

Neither of us spoke for a few moments until a warm breeze moved over the railyard, making the building moan and the broken shutters shake. “Do you still believe in ghosts?” he asked.

I snorted. “I’ve never believed in ghosts.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Truth: I 100 percent did and still kinda do.

“Then why did you refuse to touch the station when we were kids?” He drummed his fingers against the empty railcar, the sound echoing underneath us. “You always made up excuses when I dared you.”

“Maybe I didn’t trust you not to shove me inside and lock the door.”

His finger drumming stopped. “That was your brother’s idea the first time, and you know it.”

Another railcar groaned when a stronger breeze moved in and around its broken windows and open doors. A small animal—a rabbit, maybe—scurried into the tall grass and bushes nearby, sending a cloud of gnats skyward.

Reed shuddered.

“Is the big, tough Reed Fulton afraid of ghosts?” I smirked.

“Only of your breath, Crowley.”

“Please. I chew gum like it’s my job.”

“Oh yeah?” He scooted closer.

He leaned across the now smaller space between us and inhaled slowly. The corner of his mouth turned up into a surprised smile, the same smile he had when I fell into him on the catwalk the other day. “Cinnamon?” he asked.

Why did his voice suddenly drop and sound all gravelly?

And why the hell was I once again close enough to feel the stubble framing his jawline?

“Big Red,” I blurted, scooting back. “Dad keeps a lot of it in the garage.”

Something backfired near the Fulton farm, sending a bunch of crows squawking into a row of trees.

Reed ran a hand over his face and groaned. “That’ll be Ben, screwing around in the barn. Again.”

From what Lauryn had already learned about him, I wasn’t surprised. Who would leave someone that reckless alone in a barn? We didn’t stock a lot of replacement parts for heavy farm equipment at the hardware store, but I knew enough about tools to recognize that farming stuff was expensive.

Maybe that was why Mr. Fulton wanted a team and agreed to the bet this summer? The earnings from the stadium would definitely help with running a farm as big as theirs.

Be that as it may, I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel and leave my entire life behind either. Go Cardinals.

The chimes from the Methodist Church on Main Street dinged the time. Seven o’clock. Five minutes left.