Page 27 of Ghost Girl

I frowned, my concern for her ratcheting up to new heights. ‘Kali, if I can help you in any way, I want to.’

Her expression softened, something akin to caring flashing through her eyes. A dangerous emotion when it came to me, since I wasn’t going to be easy to care about. Not when my end was fast approaching.

‘You can help me by being my friend,’ she offered, a hopeful glint sparking in her eyes.

I was more than willing to accept. ‘I’d love that. If that’s what you want, I could be your friend.’

She took on a faraway look, like she was caught in a memory. It didn’t seem like a good one, though. ‘I haven’t had a friend in a long time,’ she admitted, and my heart squeezed painfully inside my chest.

‘Me neither. But, I have to warn you, I’m probably not the best choice for a friend,’ I confessed.

‘How so?’

‘Because…’ I paused, unsure if I was actually about to say it out loud or not. This would be the first time I would admit it with words, putting it out there into the universe. There was a finality to it that scared me, like some part of me didn’t want to admit it yet. I may have accepted my lot in life, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still mourning what could have been. But watching Kali’s expressive eyes, seeing how she wore her heart on her sleeve. Her concern for me was just as powerful as mine was for her, despite being strangers, and I knew she was safe to admit my condition. I wanted at least one person to know, to remember me fondly after I was gone.

‘I’m dying,’ I told her, and her breath hitched. It drew my attention down to her chest, and then the bountiful mounds of her breasts as they rose higher into the air. Beautiful. But I was a gentleman, so I forced my gaze back to hers.

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked, trying to hold back her reaction. I saw it anyway, the confusion, the compassion. No pity, though. I appreciated that.

The words spilled from my mouth like verbal diarrhoea at her question, like she’d just given me permission to unload everything that had been on my mind since I’d found out a few days ago. ‘I have cancer. A brain tumour. Glioblastoma. It’s inoperable, and I’ve declined treatment. Wouldn’t have helped, anyway. I’ve got about three months left to live, if that. So, if you want to let me in on your dangerous situation, I’m not fussed about putting myself at risk, not when I’m already dying.’

‘That’s…’ she began, fighting to find the right words. There were none, but everyone still tried. Her eyes darted to the side, but I saw nothing but shadows. She sighed, her defeat evident in the way her body practically caved in on itself.

‘This danger goes beyond death, Rhodes. I’m sorry, but I can’t.’

And then she was practically merging with the shadows, disappearing before my very eyes like a spectre in the night. I didn’t bother looking for her again. I had the feeling that she would only let me find her when she wanted to be found, and I was surprisingly okay with that. Not because I couldn’t see her whenever I wanted, but because I knew she would return, and it would be her choice.

And that meant something. Something important. Something worthwhile.

I gave the woods one last lingering look before making my way back to Bessie. I had another conversation waiting for me.

Chapter 11

Chance

My phone burned a hole in my pocket, its contents the cause of my tense shoulders and the few more grey hairs I’d found this morning after my conversation with Dakota. She’s come bearing gifts of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and coffee, with a side of bittersweet hope. If this was just some elaborate, sick joke, heads were going to fucking roll.

One hand was tapping anxious fingers against my thigh while my nails on the other hand were being bitten down to small, painful nubs. That tiny bite of pain helped to ground me, assuring me that I wasn’t dreaming, but also reminding me that my life so far was one tragedy after another. I couldn’t get my hopes up, yet every cell inside my body, every atom of my being was screaming for my hunch to be true.

Please, please, please…

‘Chance, chill. Rhodes will be here soon, and then we can get some answers, I promise,’ Ashe soothed, cupping my hand in hers to halt my nervous tapping.

‘What if it’s not her?’ I asked in a tight voice.

‘The likelihood of it being her is already practically non-existent, Chance. Don’t get me wrong, I hope it’s her, but I doubt it. We can only ask and put the matter to bed.’

‘I don’t want to put it to bed. I want answers. I want to fucking find her, goddammit.’

‘I know, but stressing and making yourself bleed isn’t going to change the outcome of this conversation. Get your hands out of your mouth. Maybe pace a bit if you’ve got too much energy, but stop hurting yourself.’

My inhale was stuttered, and the release was just as shaky. Still, the oxygen helped to clear my head enough to realise that she was right. As soon as I removed my nails from between my teeth, my feet were moving. Back and forth I paced, my boots digging into the mud and leaving deep grooves. I was wearing a new path right in front of the service building, but I couldn’t care about that. I didn’t think Rhodes would mind anyway. He seemed like an easy-going guy.

The sound of his beat-up old truck rumbling down the dirt road had me freezing in place, my head snapping up to watch as he ambled closer. By the time he had parked in his spot behind the building, I was about ready to jump in and drag him out if necessary. Did he have to drive so damn slowly?

He sauntered over to us at a leisurely pace, hands stuffed inside his pants pockets, a thoughtful expression on his face. He didn’t seem to see us, too lost inside his head as he walked by with barely a head nod to acknowledge us. We trailed behind him, and I gritted my teeth at how slow he was being, like he had all the time in the world and we weren’t about to ask him a potentially life-altering question.

Finally, he unlocked his office door and we pushed inside. Ashe and Gloria each took a seat on the couch that took up one of the walls, and Rhodes settled in behind his desk, which seemed to be strewn with some sort of organised chaos. Messy though it may have been, I did notice how that mess was segregated and kept within its allocated space. There were a couple of armchairs off to the side, as if they were stored out of the way only tobe dragged in front of the desk if they were needed. I chose to ignore them in favour of standing. I didn’t think I could sit. I was practically vibrating with anxious energy, my hands shook with adrenaline, and my stomach twisted itself into knots.

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