Page 32 of Road Trip With the Ghost Hunter

“What?”

“Doesn’t have to be forever, if you don’t want it to. Just come home.”

Home. That word was so tempting because it wasn’t Virginia I’d call home. As cheesy as it sounded, it was him. He felt like home.

“We’re nuts,” I whispered. Lucas laughed so deeply, I felt it in my own chest.

“Who the fuck cares if we are,” he said, his laughing lips kissing mine. “Come home to me,” he whispered. “We'll figure it out.”

“And what? Live with you? Wouldn’t we be setting ourselves up for failure?” I wanted to free dive without a care, but my logical brain felt like it had to consider practicality.

“You want your own apartment? We’ll get you one. It doesn’t have to look like anything. It's whatever we want.”

“When did you become so carefree?” I laughed. The Lucas I met days ago ate vegetables on road trips. He used logic andpaper maps for travel. This carefree, let’s be in love, Lucas felt sudden and new.

“One thing you’ll learn about me,” he leaned down and nibbled on my lower lip, bringing my body to life again. “When I set my mind to something, I don’t believe in doing it half-ass. I’m all in.”

“All in?” I raised my brow, feeling that beautiful, hard tip nudge my core. Raising my head, I bit his lip back. “Prove it.”

I’m learning my man doesn’t back down from a challenge. Lucas most definitely proved it. All night long.

***

Driving away from Rustic Junction, we left with an SUV full of trinkets and treats. Melody hugged me goodbye and sent us off with a bottle of their rustic apple pie moonshine she stole from the back. Her mother, Wynona, winked when we came downstairs this morning, and I thought I might die from embarrassment. Lucas and I are not quiet lovers. At all.

She sent us off with some homemade shepherd’s pie and cookies she had made the night before. We got the car checked out and gassed up before we headed off. The man at the gas station dressed up as a horse stable sent us off with varied pickled veggies, some soy sauce eggs Lucas was down for, and souvenirs from Rustic. It was a sweet, quirky town, but definitely not where I wanted to call home.

My body was curled up in the passenger seat, facing Lucas. His hand held mine and rested on my thigh. I drew shapes on his open palm, thinking. “What do you think about me teaching pottery?”

Glancing over, he thought about it for a second. “Would that make you happy?”

I shrugged. “Throwing clay, working at the wheel is the only time I feel detached from everything, in a good way.”

“So, why not just create things in your own space and sell them online or in person at novelty shops?”

The idea tickled my brain. I hadn’t thought of that. “You think people would buy my stuff?”

“Hell yeah. You showed me pictures. The ones you did of those cute animal planters were great. I could see people wanting them.”

Nodding, I kept drawing on his hand with my fingers. “I could still offer classes, too. I’d just have to find a maker’s space or pottery location that maybe rents out space.”

“We actually have a large Maker’s community where I live. There’s an awesome warehouse with tons of equipment for community use.”

My chest bubbled, giddy with the possibilities. “I told you,” he said, squeezing my hand. “We’ll figure it out.”

Smiling, I brought his hand up and kissed it. “We really will.”

The next morning, we were leaving Kansas and heading toward Missouri. Lucas insisted on driving through the night, so we took turns. He fought me on it at first, but I wasn’t having him sleep deprived and driving through the night.

We stopped at a rural gas station to top off. While Lucas took care of that, I was on the hunt for snacks. Li approved ones. The bell chimed at my arrival. For a random middle-of-the-highway stop, it was fairly big. Near the back was an Asian market section, which surprised me. At a small table sat an older Asian woman surrounded by cultural ceramics, beads, handkerchiefs, etc.

She smiled sweetly, almost knowingly, at me. “Hi,” I said. “These are beautiful.” I was hovering my finger over some of the ceramic cats curled up, sleeping. One of them was white with delicate blue designs.

“That one is special,” she said in Chinese.

“Oh.” Surprised. “You’re Chinese. Me too,” I said, also in Chinese. “My grandmother was born there. I was born here.”

She picked up the cat I was eyeing and rested it on her palm. “She brings you prosperity, good luck, and protection. She represents the yin balance in life. Feminine.” She encouraged me to take the ceramic cat by placing it in my hand. “You have your yang,” she tipped her head to the window. I turned and saw Lucas walking toward the gas station.

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