The Curse of Redwood (Ivy Grove #2) - Jaclyn Osborn Page 0,106
clock on the far wall ticked down the time I had left with Zeke before we’d be tested more than we ever had.
Was this my last day with him? I held his arm tighter.
He kissed the top of my head and let his face linger in my hair. Savoring my touch, my scent. As if he was counting down those seconds, minutes, hours too. Knowing our time was limited.
My eyes watered again, and I glanced up to see Ben watching me. He gave me a sympathetic smile before glancing at Theo, who was reaching over to steal a grape from the fruit salad Taylor had ordered.
Falling in love with a ghost was the best—and most painful—thing I’d ever done.
***
Zeke laughed more that day than I’d ever seen him. He was so carefree as we walked down Main Street, exploring stores and eating so much food I thought I’d burst open. He’d wanted to try different coffee flavors, so we’d gone into the coffeehouse after breakfast, then once again after lunch so he could try the ones he wanted.
Then, we visited the bookstore. He went down each aisle, admiring the books and telling me about the ones he’d read. When he found a copy of The Ghost of Ellwood on the shelf, he flipped through it in amazement.
“Ben has a way with words,” he commented, after reading the first page. “I’ve only started reading, and I’m already hooked.”
I grabbed it from him and walked toward the register.
“What are you doing?” he asked, trailing behind me.
“Buying you a book. Duh.” I placed it on the counter and pulled out my wallet.
“You don’t have to,” he said, resting his hand on my side.
“I want to. Now stop giving me lip before I bite it.”
“Tease.”
I could’ve asked Ben to give me a copy, but I wanted to support him. Plus, he and Theo were already in New York and buying the book was a spontaneous decision. I could afford the twenty bucks for the hardcover, so whatever. After purchasing it, the shop owner put it in a bag and handed it over.
“Enjoy,” she said. “The author comes into the shop sometimes. Seems like a nice man.”
“He is,” I responded, before heading for the exit. The bell above the door dinged as we passed through it.
“Thank you,” Zeke said once we were outside, grabbing my hand while holding the bag in the other. “I’m interested to see how the love story resolves in Ben’s book.”
“I wont spoil it for you, but just prepare yourself for tears.”
“Nuh uh,” I disagreed, swinging our hands as we walked. “Tears don’t always mean sadness. You can cry because you’re happy too.”
However, in the case of Ben’s book, it really did end sad.
Would my love story end the same?
“Are you having fun?” I asked, after we walked into Halloween Emporium, the costume shop Dracula-dude had been advertising earlier that month.
“I am.” He stopped in the aisle and gripped the side of my neck, pressing our foreheads together. “It’s the best day I’ve ever had. All thanks to you.”
“So, you liked my friends?”
“Very much so,” he answered, pulling away but snagging hold of my hand. We walked farther down the aisle, looking at scary monster masks. “Such a shame Taylor had to leave for work. I quite enjoyed my discussion with him. You were right. He’s a wonderful person.”
“See?” I grinned. “He’s awesome. And he likes you too. I can tell.”
“He looks a lot like Charlie,” Zeke said, a bit softer. “Same dark hair and hazel eyes. He shares many of the same interests as well. Speaking to him felt so familiar, yet different. It stirred up emotions I thought I let go of.”
“I’m sorry you lost Charlie,” I said, moving my thumb along the top of his hand. We stopped in front of an animatronic scarecrow that growled as it slowly moved a pitchfork up and down. “It’s okay for you to talk about him, you know. You said you didn’t love him, but I think you did. Even if you don’t realize it.”
“I love you more,” he responded.
“I know.” I pressed my cheek to his hand as he caressed my face. “But the heart is big enough to love more than one person. And you’ve lived for so many years. I’m not mad or upset that I’m not the only one. I’d probably be upset if I was, because a hundred and forty-something years is a long time to be alone and without