Page 81 of Haunted Ever After

“Elmer,” he finally choked out. “He’s gone.”

“Oh, Nick, no. I’m sorry.” She didn’t ask what had happened, or how it had gone down. She honed in on the important question. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think I am.” It was only a little bit of a lie. Elmer was right. It was time to look forward. “So hey, I was thinking,” he said, desperate to change the subject.

“About what?”

“It’s Tuesday. Fried chicken night at The Haunt.”

“Ooooh.” He could hear the smile in Cassie’s voice. “I hear it’s life-changing.”

“Meet you there tonight?”

“Or…” Her voice faltered, then returned stronger. “Any way you could get it to go? Bring it over here?”

“Dinner at your place?” The thought was so warming. “I like the sound of that.” Dinner with her, sunsets over the water with her, endless nights in bed with her. He liked the sound of all of that.

“Dinner at my place where neither of us has to cook.” Now the smile in her voice was a laugh.

“I like the sound of that even better.” He leaned back on the sofa, crossing his legs on the coffee table. “Remember, you don’t want me cooking.” He grinned as her warm chuckle came through the phone. “Let me do the prep for tomorrow and I’ll pick up dinner on the way over, okay?”

“Sure. But I have to say, I don’t know if I need life-changing chicken. My life’s pretty great the way it is right now.”

“Yeah.” This time the tight feeling in his chest had nothing to do with grief, and everything to do with the woman on the phone. She’d changed his life for the better, and he couldn’t imagine living it any other way. “Mine too.”

Thirty-Three

Nick was later than he wanted to be. He’d hoped to catch the sunset with Cassie, as the start of a new nightly tradition. But duty called and took longer than he’d expected. The new kid he’d hired for the summer was opening up tomorrow for the first time. So Nick took the opportunity after breakfast prep to revise the opening checklists—all the boring but necessary things so that he didn’t get a frantic phone call while he was out on the boat with Vince. By the time he’d locked up for the night and picked up dinner, the sun was low on the horizon and the streetlights were winking on.

It was heady feeling, walking right through Cassie’s front gate and up the steps like he had every right to be there. For most of Nick’s life, this house had been falling down and forlorn. That front window used to be a broken half pane of glass, and a good portion of the boards on this very front porch had been missing. Now the lights on the porch glowed in welcome, and it no longer looked like a place you’d dare your little sister to run up to and knock on the front door. Now it looked like a home. Cassie’s home. And he was finally welcome.

Inside looked like home too. The kitchen table was set with two place settings, and in the middle was a salad in a wooden bowl. But the most important thing was Cassie, barefoot in her denim cutoffs and oversize tee—her work-from-home uniform. Her smile was the warmest, most welcome glow of all.

“Now, I told them it was your first time with their fried chicken, so they made a fresh batch just for you.” He set the box of chicken next to the salad, and a Styrofoam container of fries next to that.

“I feel so special.” Her smile twinkled at him as she opened the box and pulled out a drumstick. The noises she made as she took her first bite bordered on obscene and made Nick forget all about food.

“I told you. Life-changing, right?”

“I maintain my allegiance to Publix, but this isn’t bad at all.”

Nick rolled his eyes good-naturedly and dug in himself. He had to remember that despite everything, she was still new in town. Plenty of time to bring her over to the right side of things.

He had very specific plans for after dinner, mostly including him and Cassie and her bedroom upstairs, but they had just started clearing their plates when a spoon perched on the edge of the table fell to the floor with a clatter. Nick bent to retrieve it, and when he straightened up the words television island were displayed in the middle of the refrigerator.

“What’s television island?” He dropped the spoon into the open dishwasher. “Does she mean kitchen island? You don’t have a television in here.” He was going to have to learn Sarah’s language if he stuck around, wasn’t he?

“She means Romance Resort.” Cassie loaded their plates into the dishwasher. “It’s her favorite show.” She looked sheepish. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I promised her we would watch it tonight. She went through a pretty bad ordeal, what with her husband and all.”

“That’s okay.” Nick could think of worse ways to spend an evening than next to Cassie on her couch. Besides, he’d been through an ordeal with Sarah Hawkins’s husband too. He understood.

After dinner, Cassie snuggled into him on the couch, her head nestled against his chest—oh yeah, he could think of way worse ways to spend an evening—and pulled up her library of recorded shows. “So it’s kind of like Survivor, but horny.” She flashed him a grin. “You’re gonna hate it.”

Nick wouldn’t say he hated Romance Resort. He was mostly astounded at the teeny-tiny swimsuits they all wore. Could they really show that many butts on network television?

“This is really what Sarah wants to do with her afterlife? Watch this crap?”

“Hey.” Cassie giggled as she lightly swatted at his chest. “Love me, love my ghost.”

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