Haunt Your Heart Out

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

No fresh snowfall meant Natalie and I could meet up for our standing Saturday morning date, since there were no driveways to plow, paths to shovel, or sidewalks to salt. When we were teenagers we would have spent the day tucked away in Nat’s bedroom scaring up schemes to perpetuate local legends. We’d been all about haunting-related hijinks, from harassing tourists to sleepovers in the cemetery just to prove we could.

Many assumed there had to have been something to the dozens of ghost stories and eerie sightings for the tales to keep circulating, even all these years later, but it was less spirits and more Nat and me who haunted the town. Unsupervised, we turned corn fields, empty buildings, and covered bridges into the Twilight Zone , and each of the low-budget “hauntings” was catalogued on my vlog. Existing local legends inspired us—we’d grown up hearing ghostly stories about Emily’s Bridge and the Green Mountain Inn—but after a while, our imaginations took over. The film work was closer to Blair Witch Project than Slender Man . We had fans, regardless.

Adulthood had forced us to quit the bogus ghost gig, but now our Saturdays were better than sacred. By this time each week, I was more than ready to turn the bookshop over to Darla, the college student who worked weekends. She completed school assignments while business was slow and churned out coffee when customers appeared.

That Saturday was cold enough that breath could freeze before passing lips, and tiny ice crystals formed beneath noses with each exhale. A bone-deep chill, and not enough moisture in the air for snow to fall. Ice on the sidewalks crunched and squeaked beneath frigid feet, and the sky’s vivid blue warned locals to stay tucked indoors.

Nat and I couldn’t let nature push us around, though, not on our designated day. So, we shuffled along the sidewalk and dashed through the door at The Barn. The renovated outbuilding served up omelets, waffles, and pancakes, all with a side of hash. The fancy exterior disguised the fact that it was nothing but greasy spoon fare inside. We waved at the host as we slipped through the waiting crowd and grabbed our usual spot at the counter.

Our weekend hangouts rarely deviated from breakfast at The Barn—stuffed French toast drowned in local maple syrup—followed by whatever felt right. Snowy weekends prevented the breakfast-and-wandering portion of the day, but on those days I’d climb into the cab of Nat’s truck to ride along while she plowed driveways. Coffee and conversation weren’t limited to dining establishments and couches.

“So, I deleted that dating app from my phone,” I said, blowing the steam off the top of my scalding coffee. Frank’s heating element setting must have said “molten lava,” the way it both tasted metallic and could melt rocks, but loyalty to the locals who’d practically raised me kept me coming back anyway.

“No, Lex! Come on,” Natalie said, then gripped my bicep and jiggled me side-to-side.

“The last few matches were only looking for a hookup, but I need long-term.”

“Don’t you dare use bad matches on a subpar dating app as an excuse to stop dating. For every good date, you have to suffer through a few bad ones. Those are the rules.”

“I’m not putting myself in the position to get my heart broken again. The second I fall for someone, they’ll take off.”

“That’s dramatic. Not everyone leaves,” Natalie said. “Hey, Frank, tell Lex that not everyone leaves.”

Frank, the owner, looked up from the bacon he was frying and shrugged. “I’d leave if I could.”

“Very nice, how inspiring. Thanks, Frank.”

He saluted us with his spatula. “Glad to help.”

I downed the last of my coffee and picked at the crumbs on my plate. “Kyle left me for a music career.”

“To be fair, he thought you’d go with him.”

I grimaced. I could have happily settled down with him if it hadn’t required a multistate move and a crash course in folk music. Kyle had offered a long-distance relationship, but I knew it wouldn’t fill the part of my heart that craved companionship and nearness. The desire for sharing space—making up for the empty house I went home to as a teen, perhaps. “Carley? They took off for that job in Washington.”

“Sure, but even you thought that relationship was on its way out.” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“Amanda left too. No excuse for it.”

“She finished her degree. What did she have to stick around for? You started the relationship knowing she’d go. You can’t judge the rest of the world by your exes.”

“Can we judge it by yours, then? When was your last date again?”

“Last week, but that’s irrelevant. Our romantic goals are totally different. I’m fine going with the flow, but you need to know someone will be around for the long haul. My point is that people leave, Lex, but not all people leave. Besides, I’ve got nowhere else to be, so I’m sticking around whether you like it or not.”

“I like it.” I gave her a toothy, greedy grin. “If you leave, all I’ll have left is the memory of you and a montage of our ghostly greatest hits. And trust me, I’d rather not have the thought of you dangling from a tree to hang glowing orbs on repeat in my brain because it was terrifying to watch. You’re the last thing I’ve got around here.”

“And you’re impossible.” Nat pushed her empty plate across the counter and tucked some cash beneath it.

We took Natalie’s truck up the road to the tree farm to say hi to her dad and brother. Even in the chilly weather, business was going strong. A line of cars streamed out of the parking lot, loaded with trees and wreaths and all manner of Christmas cheer.

I scanned the line, watching for familiar faces, when Natalie jumped into the fray to help tie a giant tree to the top of a not-so-big sedan.

It was better to let the experts handle it. My only experience with tree-tying was the one year in high school when I decided to help out to earn a bit of cash. Jordan was away for her first year of college. Instead of her coming back to celebrate with us, my parents dropped every Christmas tradition we had to go spend three weeks with her. They’d offered me a ticket, too—but between wrapping up an unwieldy term paper and cramming for exams, it was all I could do to remember breakfast in the mornings. There was too much going on for me to consider a holiday trip so I told them to just go without me. Grampa offered to hang back with me—and triple-checked that I’d be fine on my own—but I didn’t want him to stay home just to watch me do homework, eat cold pizza, and plot the next few episodes of Haunted Happenings . So he went to California with the rest of the family and I was left to hang out at the inn with Natalie’s family, sharing her room. It was a cold snap kind of stretch, too bitter for galivanting to stage hauntings, so I offered to lend a hand. I wasn’t suited for tree cutting, netting, or loading. Instead, I huddled in the semi-heated hut, accepted tree payments, and watched soaps on the tiny tabletop TV until school was back in session.

When the tree was successfully secured, we said our goodbyes and speed-walked back to the truck. I’d promised popcorn and movies by the fireplace, and Nat wasn’t going to let me forget it. But I caught a glimpse of a familiar face peering at the branches on trees, inspecting for fullness and prickliness and whatever else one could desire in an evergreen.

“James!” I grasped Natalie’s arm and pulled her in front of me to block the view, peeking around her shoulder to make sure he hadn’t seen me. I tugged her toward the passenger side door so I could keep using her as a shield, then released her when I was safely tucked inside. She scurried around the truck and climbed in beside me.

“I don’t blame you for hitching a ride with him the other day. He’s gorgeous,” Natalie said, her eyes locked on him as he moseyed around the precut tree area.

I groaned, then filled her in on the latest bits she’d missed, from the coffee and funeral to the stolen key and forgotten hat.

“Sounds like someone liiiiiikes you.” The tone could have been mistaken for a middle schooler’s taunting.

“It doesn’t matter if he likes me; he’s here because someone died, Nat. What am I going to do, offer to comfort him while he’s here, then just send him on his way? Besides, he has a New York license plate, see? Further proof that it’s a terrible idea.”

“Hey, just because he’s from out of town doesn’t mean you can’t get to know him a little while he’s here. Besides, it looks like he’s getting a tree. Maybe he’s sticking around for a few weeks. You might find that you enjoy conversation with someone, even if it’s not leading anywhere. You can’t hold his place of residence against him, and you especially can’t hold his hat hostage just because he’s a tourist.”

Deep down, I knew that being irritated by this guy, without knowing a thing about him, was silly. I could admit it. But letting him pretend he’d forgotten his hat, just to make me fall for him, would mean he’d won. I could play that game, too.

While Natalie’s brother carried James’s chosen tree to the line for netting, James rushed back to the car, climbed inside, and blew warmth into his hands. I watched him, considering whether he’d be the type to press chilled fingers against the small of my back for the squeal it would produce. He probably would. Then he’d grab me by the belt loops and pull me into him, an apology to chase away the shiver. I bit my lip and tried to push the idea away. It wouldn’t budge.

“Maybe I should go tell him his hat is at the store.”

“That’s more like it.” Natalie patted my shoulder. “Get over there and let him know when he can come get it.” She winked.

I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t a move. It’s my duty, as an employee, to ensure any items lost at Dog-Eared are returned to owner. Don’t read into it.”

I shoved open the truck’s heavy steel door, tugged my hat down to cover more of my face, and pressed my hands deep into my jacket pockets. Walking between Nat’s truck and James’s car took both hours and seconds, all at once. There was no sense in getting worked up about it, but I knew the moment I tapped on his window he’d turn on that smile, his eyes would twinkle, and I’d forget the most important detail: that he wasn’t from around here, he’d be leaving, and there was no sense in getting to know him.

He rolled down his window without looking and held a couple of folded bills through the gap.

“I know my soy-no-foam is good, but damn, what a tip.”

His head snapped up and he smirked. “You work here, too, huh?”

“No, I saw you from across the lot—” I closed my eyes and took a breath. He was mocking me, and I’d played right into it. “Your head looked cold. You forgot your hat at the store the other night. I wanted to let you know where it was in case you were looking for it.”

“How thoughtful. I was, actually.” The playful gleam in his eye matched his megawatt grin. “A special woman bought it for me.”

So, that was the game he wanted to play. Bringing up other women to get a rise out of me. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He thought he could flash a grin and get what he wanted, but I knew better than to fall for a pretty face and smooth lines.

“Yes, I’m sure you treasure each and every article of clothing your mom gives you.”

The barest of hesitation crossed his face, a darkening behind his eyes and a pull in one corner of his mouth. His grin dropped a few degrees, but he pressed his lips back into a fond smile to replace it. “She had great taste.”

Had. Past tense, had. What was it with me dredging up death every time I talked to this guy?

I leaned my head into my hands and groaned. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m sorry, too. Her gifts suck lately. You should see the stuff she sends now. She got remarried, her new guy is a Cubs fan. The Cubs, can you imagine?”

“So she’s not dead?” Heat rushed to my cheeks.

“Not unless you know something I don’t. She’s an ER nurse in Colorado.”

“You’re cruel.”

He grinned. “And you’re holding my hat hostage.”

“It’s at the store. Come by Monday, and you can have it back. Completely intact, I promise.”

“I’ll see if I can squeeze in a stop.” He brushed his fingertip along the dashboard, then examined the dust that stuck to it. What an arrogant move.

Yet, somehow, I couldn’t help but trace his jawline with my eyes. A straight shot, right down to that dimpled chin. If he smiled again, I’d be a goner.

Natalie’s brother appeared beside me, a tree slung over one shoulder. “Hey, Alex,” he said.

“Alex, huh?” James asked. Another grin lit his face. “Let me guess, short for Alexis?”

Now he was toying with me. “No.”

“Alexandria?”

“It’s not short for anything. It’s just Alex.”

“Well, ‘Just Alex,’ I’ll swing by the store on Monday to claim my property.”

“You do that.” I spun and marched across the lot toward Natalie’s truck. I climbed into the passenger side and narrowed my eyes at her.

“Wow,” she said. She opened her hands, flinging her fingers outward. “Wow! You two are fireworks . The sparks, god, I could feel the heat from here.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s what you call sparks? He spent the whole conversation mocking me.”

She sparked fingers in the air again. “Fireworks.”

“Ugh, can we please drop this? Not interested. I can’t feel my toes. Take me home.”

She laughed, shook her head, and put the truck in gear.