Haunt Your Heart Out

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

By closing time, snowflakes had started to drift lazily from the low-hanging clouds. There was moisture mingling with the flakes, so the chilly twenty-eight degrees wasn’t as brutal as it would have been on a dry day. I shuffled papers into manageable stacks, reset the café for morning, slipped on my jacket, and tucked James’s gloves into a pocket. The bell chimed a sweet goodbye as I tugged the door shut and jiggled the key in the lock. A separate jingle came, muffled through the falling snow and evening dark. Cheerful and rhythmic, a perfect match to the dog’s pleasant little trot.

“Hey there, Lulu,” I said, squatting to greet the dog first. I pulled a treat from the baggie in my pocket and wiggled it in front of her snow-covered snout. “I’ve got something for you, you know. I’ve been waiting all day to see you.”

James sniffed a laugh and crossed his arms, which tugged the leash slightly and made the tags jingle again. “ Lulu has likewise been looking forward to our walk.”

My chest warmed at the sound of his voice. Deep and rich, and cutting straight through any sense I had left. I turned to glance at him, a satisfied smirk plastered across my face. My heart was screaming at me to go in for the kill, but my brain held my limbs hostage.

In the end, my heart’s stubbornness won out. “I’ve got something for you, too, you know.” I stood and gripped the lapel of his jacket. The fuzzy wool nipped at my fingertips, loops of fiber snagging against my dry skin. Before I could change my mind, I tugged him closer and closed the distance between us.

“Lucky me,” he said. His breath dashed across my face, chasing away the chill that had begun to settle at the tip of my nose and cheeks.

“Hello, you.” I leaned in for a kiss, and he slid an arm behind me as our lips connected, tugging me closer. His icy chin and nose were contrasted by his mouth, hot and wanting. The pressure of his soft lips let up ever so slightly, and I cracked my eyes to peek. He was peeking back, the street lamps sparkling in his eyes like fireworks reflecting against the still surface of a lake.

Blood rushed to my cheeks, the warm flush warring with below-freezing temperatures. After a delicious moment, we broke free. My fingertips tingled so I wiggled them to regain feeling—and control—then took a shaky breath.

“You’ve become a regular.” I tugged the gloves from my pocket and pulled them on.

James grinned. “Lulu likes you, what can I say? She’s been asking when we’ll hang out again, and I just hate to disappoint her.”

“Of course, anything for Lulu. So, what’s on the agenda, then?”

“Well, since you’re the area expert, I was wondering if you wanted to let me in on those local legends you were whispering about in the cemetery.”

“I see.” I crossed my arms. “You’re just using me for documentary research. Free consultant.”

“Far from free. I had to woo you with pizza and become the biggest-spending patron at your fine book-and-coffee establishment.”

“You’ve got the patronizing down.”

He pressed a hand to his chest and bowed his head. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the book recommendations and caffeine. Without either, I’d be lost.”

“Okay, but are you serious about this tour guide business? Because the ghosts around here and I go way back. We’re basically best buds. So, if you’re interested, I’ve got things to show you.”

James swept a hand through the air and took half a step backward. “After you.”

I dragged him all over town, from the little row of must-be-haunted houses along Maple Street to the inns that gave me a goosebumpy feeling every time I caught a glimpse of a shadow in a window. I zig-zagged my way through town without stopping for breath, and Lulu and James kept up admirably.

We wandered until traffic slowed to a trickle and tourists disappeared to snuggle inside their hotel rooms and rented chalets for the night, resting up and icing muscles stressed from their runs down the slopes. But our trio kept wandering. Shin-high snow and weather-obstructed views couldn’t keep us indoors. Not on a night as gloriously blustery as this.

Something about gliding my way down my icy hometown sidewalk hit different with company, especially when they were seeing it with new eyes. Seeing what I saw in it, reveling in the history and tales whispered from person to person. With bits and pieces of my vlog stories woven in, I painted the town as a significantly eerie locale—not that there weren’t enough stories to have earned it the title already. All my vlog had done was add to the already long list of rumored hauntings.

“You like this place a little, huh?” James leaned against a lamppost and kicked one heel up, toes tipped into the building snowpack.

“Just a little.” I beamed, eyeing the immense red building across the road from us. The white trim was obscured by falling flakes, but the walls stood out like a beacon against the snow. I nodded my head toward the building. “Do you know about that one?”

James examined the building, one eyebrow hitched as he considered. “Isn’t that the one with the piano-playing ghost?”

“Ohh, he shoots, he misses. Tap-dancing ghost, actually. He dances on the roof when it snows. I thought you said you were a ghost hunter. This seems like super important supernatural expert knowledge.”

“I’m new to the area. There’s a learning curve. He hasn’t revealed himself to me yet. Pick the excuse that most resonates with you.” He raised a brow. “Is this really the kind of thing locals would chat about randomly?”

“Oh, we all talk about Boots.”

“Boots?”

“The ghost. Boots. He’s kind of a big deal.”

“Then I am grateful for the tip. Maybe we’ll talk them into granting us an exclusive interview. Thanks for the free advice.”

I kicked a clump of snow in his direction. It splattered against his dark jeans, leaving a white dandelion-puff-shaped silhouette on the denim. “Next time, don’t expect me to give this info for so cheap. I expect compensation in exchange for the tour guide treatment.”

James tilted backward, crossed his arms, and grinned. “Oh yeah? What kind of compensation?”

“Make me an offer I can’t refuse.” I leaned in and wrinkled my nose teasingly, then brushed a snowflake from the front of his coat. He reached up and wrapped his hand around my wrist, covering my hand with his and looking into my eyes.

Lulu dashed behind me, pulling her leash like a tripwire against my legs, and I lurched forward from the force. James swept both arms around me and pulled me in close. Not ignoring the opportunity so perfectly presented, I pressed him against the lamppost. Lulu barked and stepped, foot to foot, beside me.

“Proud of yourself?” I asked, narrowing my eyes playfully at the dog.

“Good girl.” James nodded at Lulu, pulled his arms tighter around my waist to draw me into a cold-and-snow scented embrace, then dipped down for a kiss. His lips pressed into mine, and for a glorious moment, my heart stopped beating. When he pulled my lower lip between his teeth, it took every ounce of willpower to keep my knees from buckling. We swayed together, silhouetted in the glow of a streetlight.

Lulu let out a sharp bark and tugged at her leash, aiming homeward and shuffling her feet in the snow to get her point across.

James broke away from the kiss and pulled his Yankees cap off his head. He swiped his dark hair back into place, tugged the cap over it again, and adjusted it, pulling the brim low enough to shadow his eyes. I’d daydreamed about this very sight for days. As my heart thudded against my ribcage, he stepped away. A vacuum of cold and ice replaced the warmth he was putting off, and I shivered, missing the proximity immediately. Not just for the outer warmth, but for the way it made my head spin when he was close.

“She’s cold, isn’t she?” I asked.

“We’ve been out here for hours. You sure know how to pack it all in. I should get her back.” His eyes held mine as he drew a thumb along my cheek. “Come home with me?”

My legs quivered, from cold or excitement or a bit of both at once.

My phone rang. I intended to hit ignore , but I groaned when I caught the name on the screen. I turned it toward James. “My mother. I should answer this. I’ve been ignoring her to prevent being the disappointing daughter—again—but there’s only so much avoiding I can do.”

James squeezed my hand and leaned in to press a final, quick kiss to my forehead. His lips were icy against my skin, but the contact still managed to warm me from the inside out. He held Lulu’s leash with one hand and offered a low goodbye wave with the other. Nothing but the crunch of his footsteps broke the winter silence.

I filled my lungs with icy air, closed my eyes, and answered the phone.

“Hi, Mom, what’s up?” My squeaking footsteps echoed in the opposite direction as James’s as I trudged along the sidewalk back to my car.

“‘What’s up’ is that your father and I want to talk with you.”

“Is this one of those meetings that could be an email?” My car’s lights flicked on when I hit the unlock button and the interior light sparkled off the frosted windshield. A million snow crystals danced in my vision. I started the engine, poked at the defrost settings, and shook off a shiver. My toes were solid ice and moisture crept up my pant legs, but nothing could freeze out the warm throb in my chest that seemed to pick up pace as I pictured James strolling away.

“It can wait until Christmas. I just wanted to confirm when your flight is.”

“Not booked, because I had to use my trip money to fix the furnace last month.”

“You’re never going to get a plane ticket this close to Christmas,” she scolded. “You should have gotten your flight settled weeks ago.”

“I’m not coming, Mom.”

“Of course you are. It’s the one time per year you visit us, and we were all counting on you being here.”

Probably so they could all unite against me in the California versus Vermont debate.

“I can’t produce a full bank account just because the calendar says it’s December.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You said we needed to talk. Is it a Christmas-visit-only discussion, or it something we can just talk about now?” Over the phone, not in person where my facial expressions would give me away.

“If you insist.” Mom sighed. “Your father and I have a plan for that house of yours. It is obviously a money pit, and we would like to cover the cost of listing the house for sale, including paying the closing fees.”

“How is selling my home going to make any of this better?” I smacked a fist off the edge of the steering wheel, then shook away the tingle it left behind. “It’s where I live, Mom. It’s where you grew up.”

“You’re perfectly capable of relocating. Rent an apartment. There are plenty of lovely places available here.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Please, try to understand our position here. You’ve just canceled Christmas because of another home repair. We couldn’t help but notice the peeling exterior paint during our last visit. If you can’t catch up, you’ll be bleeding equity. Had you followed through with college, maybe you’d have a career to support your scrambling to patch windows and walls as quickly as they crumbled.”

Had I continued with college, I’d have started missing classes because I was inching toward never being able to leave the dorm. I’d have failed out instead of deciding to leave for my own mental health. Familiarity meant safety; routine brought relief. Coming home—pressing reset—let me feel something like whole again. That and regular sessions with my therapist. But it wasn’t convenient for them to accept or understand my choices.

“My job supports me just fine.” I drummed my fingertips on the gear shift.

“We want to know that you’re planning for your future. You’re thirty-three—it’s time you acted like it. Make a career move, get a real job, and stop playing small-town bookseller like your life is a Christmas movie.”

My heart was caving in. They’d chosen to leave; they’d found a city to call theirs and decided to create a new life there without me. They’d known I’d never follow, not that they’d given me the chance. Picking up and taking off because their favorite daughter was more fun to brag about to all their friends was shitty enough without also forcing me to change to suit them.

“I like my job, and I like my house. Grampa built that house—specifically so his grandkids would have somewhere to go home to. I like being here. I like my home. For once, I’d like you to consider my feelings and how hard I’m trying to build the life that’s right for me.”

I could almost hear her eye-roll over the phone line. “Alex, you’re so dramatic. Please at least consider the idea, and what doors it may open for you. And we’re not finished discussing your Christmas visit.”

The line went silent without a goodbye. The idea of selling my house—just giving it to some new person like they’d have any claim to it—left a dark pit deep inside my ribs. My family never believed my choices were valid. Not in a million years would they consider where I was coming from. I didn’t fit their mold for perfect, and my refusal to bend to their will kept me planted in the “bad daughter” zone.

Maybe Jordan had an opinion on the house situation. She’d grown up there, too. We’d shared a room for years, until she begged her way into taking over Mom’s office because it was too embarrassing to share a room with her little sister. Even if she didn’t have the same attachment to the physical location, maybe she’d stick up for me. Having her in my corner might be enough to get our parents to back off.

The phone rang a few times before her energetic voice came through the line—on her voicemail recording. I hung up without leaving a message. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d returned my call, or even answered without letting me go to voicemail. It was pointless to keep trying when all it did was set me up for disappointment.

I tossed my phone into the passenger seat less gently than intended, and it bounced and skidded between the seat and door. I leaned forward and rested my head on the still-chilled steering wheel until I gathered myself enough to drive home.