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“Don’t play games with me, Tom. You know what I’m talking about.”
He blinked. “Light My Fire.”
“Yes! You heard it, too?”
He took another step. He was close enough now that she could smell his aftershave. It was different from his regular scent. This one was darker…spicier. Or was she simply smelling him?
“Not exactly. The song just kind of popped into my head.” He looked at her strangely. “You heard actual music?”
She nodded. “That’s why I went all Jerry Springer on Madame Gloria. It’s like, the music compelled me to admit to everyone what we’d done. Kind of like when you heard the Beatles’ Help in your head and it didn’t go away until you cancelled the demolition. Don’t you see? It’s the ghost. It’s trying to communicate with us.”
“Allie,” he said gently, “We’ve already gone through this. Do you know how crazy that sounds? Besides, I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”
“How else can you explain it?” She sighed. “I’m one step away from Chattahoochee, aren’t I?”
“What? The psych hospital? Nah, more like a couple of steps.”
She grinned. This story might be turning her into a nut job, but at least she could still laugh at herself. That had to mean she wasn’t really going crazy, right?
“You want to know what I think?” Tom said. “I think for some reason you got that song stuck in your head and somehow, you made me think of it, too. Not because of some ghost or some non-living spirit, but because, hell, I don’t know. Maybe we just think alike. Or maybe we just really get each other.” He shoved a hand roughly through his hair, like that last omission had left him vulnerable and he’d needed to do something physical to shake it off.
“Well, we certainly used to. Get each other, I mean.”
His gaze darted straight to hers. Dark and intense and probing. Was he about to bring up the past again? He seemed intent on hashing out the events of twelve years ago, but right now Allie felt too emotionally worn out for a walk down memory lane. What she needed was some time away from this story. Away from this building. Away from thinking about Mimi and
Zeke and their marital problems. What she needed was…standing right in front of her.
“If you want we can stay the night here again. Just in case anything happens,” he offered.
“Why are you being so nice to me? I’ve done nothing but wreak havoc on your life since I’ve hit town.”
“Don’t you know why?” He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I could be a lot nicer, Allie. If you let me.”
Her heart nearly catapulted out of her chest. She didn’t have to ask what that meant. God, she was weak. Because, yes, she was going to let him be very nice to her.
*~*~*
Tom opened the front door to his house and stepped aside to let Allie enter. It was unnerving having her here. He wasn’t worried what she’d think of the place. It wasn’t fancy, but he was a stickler for keeping things clean. It just felt like a lot was riding on tonight. Like he’d placed all his chips into a single pot. All it would take was the one wrong draw of the cards and he’d be out of the game permanently.
“You sure you don’t want to stay the night at the senior center?” he asked. Again.
“Positive,” she said. Again. “You sure you want to invite me inside?”
“More than positive. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “Ask me that in the morning.”
Come tomorrow morning he’d make sure neither of them had any regrets, or any doubts about where this relationship was headed. Somehow, the fates had seen clear to giving him a second chance. He wasn’t about to screw it up.
He flipped on the living room light, then made his way to the tiny kitchen in the back of the house. “Want a drink?”
“Just some water, thanks.” She looked like she needed something a lot stronger but he filled two glasses with ice water and handed her one. She gulped it down then laid her empty glass on the counter.
“How about you show me your place?” she said in an overly bright voice.
“Sure.” He led her back out to the living room, then he showed her his den, the room where he spent most of his waking time. She looked around the walls, at his diploma from the University of Florida nestled in the brown frame with the orange and blue trim, at the photos of the projects he’d worked on. She seemed impressed, but he hadn’t shown her his work to impress her. He wanted to take her mind off that damn story. She was brilliant. Couldn’t she see that?
Next stop was Henry’s room. It probably wasn’t much different from Cameron’s. Dark beige walls, a double bed, chest of drawers, and a desk. The walls were covered in sports posters. Mainly football and soccer, since those were the sports he was into. Tom had tried to steer Henry toward baseball, but he wasn’t interested.
