seemed to remember something. The smile disappeared and he glared at me.
Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, but I was still too stunned to speak. He looked like he did the day he died. Not a day older. Also, he was semi-transparent.
A car accident that had only involved him and one other car. I'd been freaked out about driving for a while after, understandable considering both my father and my husband died in car accidents.
He wore the same clothes he'd worn that day to work. Black slacks and a gray button-down top. He needed a shave. He'd woken up late that morning and had left the house in a rush. But his wreck had been on the way home.
My vision blurred as my eyes filled with tears. “How is this possible?”
Clay cocked his head as he frowned and moved forward, reaching out. He let his hand drop, hesitating before touching me. “You haven’t let go.”
Let go of what? How was he able to touch me? “I don’t understand.” Hell, I didn’t even know ghosts were real until a few weeks ago. I traced the spot on my leg where he'd just touched with my fingertips.
Clay sat on the bed in front of me, but the mattress didn't compress. He didn't weigh anything. “After my body died, I came to the house. At first, I didn’t know why I hadn’t crossed over, but I didn’t care because I got to stay with you and Wallie.”
“Wait, you’ve been here all along?” Now that I thought about it, the house had always felt heavy since he died. Like his presence lingered, making me sad. I could sense him, but he wasn't there.
When I'd arrived at Winnie’s house, at Winston, I'd started to feel better. I hadn't put two and two together until now, fully blind to Clay trying to connect with me. I hadn't been able to move on because he was still here with me.
Clay scooted closer to me. That was when I reached out and took his hand. Surprisingly, I felt him, though he wasn't quite warm enough. Closing my eyes, I sucked in my breath, trying to smell that scent that was uniquely him. I'd smelled it last night. My chest tightened and tears flowed down my cheeks as I pulled his hand to my face.
With a worried frown, he swiped the wetness from my cheeks, pressing his palm to my skin. “Don’t be sad. You just have to let go so I can move on.” His voice, though he was right in front of me, was somehow far away.
My heart cracked, the grief washing over me nearly as hard as it had the day I'd found out he was gone. “I don’t know how.”
His features turned sad. I tried to gaze deep into his brown eyes, but it wasn't the same. Right in front of me and he still felt so far away. “I tried to reach out to you for so long but couldn’t get your attention.”
I saw it now, how he'd been trying to reach me. I'd been so blind before, stuck in the mire of my grief. “Why did it work this time?”
His lips lifted. “Your magic. It’s stronger now.” He shook his head. "I'm so proud of you. You've finally embraced who you are."
That was a change. "When you were alive, you wanted me to subdue my magic."
Clay shrugged and chuckled. "Death gave me perspective. I see now that I never should've encouraged you to block off such a huge part of yourself. You've blossomed since you've embraced your magic."
Ducking my head, I smiled. He was right about that. I'd never felt more myself than since I allowed myself to open up to my magic. “Yeah. A lot of crazy stuff has happened since I moved to Shipton.”
"I know," he said. "I can't be with you there; I'm tied to this house and my ashes. But I've been listening. I heard you update Wade last night, and I'm dying to know why Alfred won't let you cut the strings on his mouth."
I'd updated Uncle Wade the night before on pretty much everything.
“I still can’t believe Sam married Olivia even though I was at their wedding. They seem like an odd couple.” He'd died a few months after the wedding.
I nodded. “I think that’s why it works with them. Besides, Olivia isn’t the snobby bitch she used to be. She’s a lot of fun to be around. And it doesn't hurt that their kid