Chapter 24
Present Day
I check the address again, comparing it with the number on the mailbox.
8338 W. Saddle Spur Drive.
This is it. This is the address Chris gave me. It was a fifteen-minute walk from school that I’d taken as soon as my last class was done, having to convince Tilly I’d go get food with her another day without telling her the truth as to where I was going.
From the research I’ve done, it appears that Courtney and the kids still live here. Or at least the background check I paid $29.99 for, to stalk my ex-ghost’s wife, says she does. That’s about all it could tell me besides the fact that a known associate was Christopher Bailey, born in 1994.
With a deep breath, I walk up the cute little path to the door, admiring the bright orange flowers on the bushes along it. Despite the heat, I feel the creep of a ghost sliding down my spine.
“Whoever is here better stay quiet,” I murmur, eyeing the video doorbell as I step onto the front porch.
I haven’t seen Jimmy or Koda in two days, not since I asked Theodore to keep them away from me. I suspect the ghost with me is neither, nor do I think it’s Theodore. He’s been avoiding me. Based on the fact I’m not turning into an inexplicable pile of mush, I don’t think it’s Rohan either. I think it’s one of the others—the ones who stay scarce. Maybe they’re keeping tabs on me while I carry out Chris’ final wishes.
I clutch at the folded piece of notebook paper in my hand, nibbling on my bottom lip, and press the doorbell button. The box dings with an electronic tune and I can hear a robotic voice announce inside, “There is someone at the door.”
I wait, straining to listen for any signs of life besides the house assistant. I didn’t pick three in the afternoon on a Monday for no reason. I’m almost hoping this woman is not here and gives me an out…for today, at least. I hear nothing for several breaths, which is why I’m surprised when the deadbolt suddenly turns and the door swings open to reveal a Hispanic woman with curly shoulder-length hair.
She gives me a tired smile. “Yes?”
I’m sure I look like a deer in the headlights. Or maybe a gasping, dying fish, with the way my mouth is opening and closing with no sound. Just about the time the woman’s expression turns wary, I manage to pull myself together.
“Sorry!” I blurt. “I didn’t think you’d be home!”
She takes a step back from the door. “What do you want?” she asks, suspicious.
Great. She thinks I’m here to case her house.
“My name is Nova. Nova Kellerman. I’m a student at U of A, and I was looking for someone,” I babble. “I don’t know if I’m even in the right place, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to knock on the door and find out. The worst you could do is tell me I don’t have the right place, you know? But I’m looking for Courtney Bailey.”
My rambling hasn’t made the woman more comfortable. “What do you want?” she repeats.
I fidget, glancing at the piece of paper I’m holding. “I need to find Courtney Bailey. I made a promise to…someone that I would.”
The woman’s dark eyes study me for a moment, and I can see they hold enough curiosity that I haven’t completely blown it. “I’m Courtney,” she says finally.
I blow out a breath, my hunch confirmed. “I’m Nova.”
“You said that.”
“Oh. Right.” I clear my throat. “I don’t really know how to start,” I hedge. “I guess I should tell you I have a message for you, and I got your address and everything from the person who told me.”
Courtney crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at me. “And that was who?”
I lick my lips, suddenly parched. “Chris Bailey,” I answer hoarsely, fear pounding through my veins.
The pink undertones of her skin wash out, paling. Her arms fall to her sides, hanging limply, and her lips part with a gasp. “What did you just say?” she whispers, her voice shaking.
I flinch as a phantom hand presses against my shoulder, a touch of support. “Chris Bailey asked me to come here.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It should be,” I reply softly. “But I have a message from him, for you and your children.”
“Chris ran off over a year ago,” she argues. “He hasn’t shown his face around here since.”
I debate how to respond and land on a simple, “Okay.”
She shakes her head. “What supposed message do you have from my ex-husband?”
I pause before answering, biting my lip hard enough that I get a taste of iron on my tongue. “He asked me to tell you that he loved you. He was stupid for everything he did.”
Courtney lets out a harsh laugh. “Right. Okay.” She steps out, her hands balling into fists. “Who are you? This isn’t funny.”
“I’m telling the truth,” I say quickly, stepping backwards. “I swear.”
“Chris has been gone for months and now some pretty little girl, who was probably fucking him like the other woman I caught him with, shows up on my doorstep.” She snorts. “What? Does he want me to take him back now? Not happening.”
“I—I wasn’t—I didn’t do—that with Chris, I swear,” I stutter, mortified. “I swear to you, Courtney. He asked me to tell you this so he could move on.”
My words settle on her, and she rears back. “Did you just say move on?”
I swallow hard, then nod. “Yes.”
“Like move on? Like move on with his life?”
“Not exactly.”
I see the realization dawn on her face. “You’re saying Chris is dead?”
My heartbeat echoes in my ears. What if she calls the police on me?
“Yes,” I answer, scared to death. I hurry on, trying to avoid being put in a mental institution if I have to explain myself to the cops. “He said to tell you that he wanted you to remember him as the guy who won you a teddy bear at the fair and not the guy who…apparently cheated on you. He said you were giving him a second chance, and he messed it up, and now he wouldn’t ever be able to make it up to you.”
Courtney laughs, but it’s humorless, shocked. “You’re fucking with me,” she declares.
“I’m not,” I tell her, meeting her eyes so she can, hopefully, see how serious I am. “Believe me. I don’t like doing this. But I promised him. I told him I would try to tell you and it was enough that he was able to pass over…or whatever you want to call it.”
Suddenly, she’s crying, tears streaming down her face. “He’s dead?” she gasps.
I give her a jerky nod. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”
I make a squealing noise as she launches herself at me, thinking she’s about to beat me up. I’m cut short when she collapses on me, sobbing, her arms wrapped tight around me. Gently, I pat at her back, just as awkwardly as I did for Chris, trying to soothe her.
After a couple of minutes, Courtney pulls back, sniffling, her eyes already swollen from crying, her mascara streaked down her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice thick. “You don’t even know me, and I’m just having a breakdown all over you.”
With a kind smile, I touch her arm. “It’s not like I didn’t drop a bomb on you.”
She gives a small, strained chuckle, then shakes herself. “What am I doing? Please, come in. Nova, right?”
I nod, stepping in through the door when she beckons me, noting that my ghost friend follows me. I glance at the pictures on the walls as she closes the door behind us, my eyes widening when I see various family photos featuring Chris and Courtney, along with a boy and girl who are tiny in some and older in others.
“I kept them up for the kids,” Courtney says behind me. I glance at her, but her gaze is on the largest photo, the one the kids are easily the oldest in. “That was the last family photo we had before…before I found out about the cheating.”
I grimace. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs. “He was too. Or so he said. He’d talked me into giving it another shot. For the kids, of course. Swore he would do anything I wanted—counseling; tracking apps; full access to his phone and computer. I agreed. It was the last time I ever spoke to him. He was supposed to move back in a couple of days later. I never heard from him again.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I stay silent.
“Chris is dead,” Courtney murmurs, like she’s testing the words out. Her face is crestfallen as she sighs. “I assumed he decided he’d rather screw around than be tied down with his family.” Her voice cracks as she makes the admission.
“I don’t think so,” I reply softly. “He was pretty upset when he was talking to me.”
Her eyes find me. “Are you like a psychic or something?”
I start to shake my head, but stop. “I don’t know what I am.”
“How did he die?”
I shrug. “I don’t know that either.”
She hums a response to that, then steps past me. “Come on. I need a drink.”
I dutifully follow her to the kitchen, watching as she takes out a tequila bottle from the freezer. We’re silent as she pours a shot and downs it, setting down the shot glass with a thunk on the shiny countertop.
“Did he say anything else?” she asks, glancing at me.
I nod. “He had a message for your kids. Nick and Reina, right?”
“Yes,” she answers, clearing her throat from the emotion thickening in her voice.
I look up at the ceiling, recalling his words. “He said that he loves them so much. No matter what, he would always love them. He said he would listen to Trolls music all day long with them, if he could. And that he wished he could just hold them and give them lots of sugar?
My voice crests up on the end, turning his words into a question because I’d thought it was a weird thing to wish at the time he said it too.
Courtney laughs again, this time choking it out through tears. “Sugars. That’s what Chris called hugs and kisses with the kids.”
“Oh.”
Neither of us has time to say anything more. The front door opens and slams in a flurry of activity. Courtney curses under her breath, swiping at her cheeks quickly and removing the streaks of makeup.
“If you still need help with homework, Nick, bring it into the kitchen,” a man calls, just as he walks through the archway. He’s a good-looking guy, dressed like someone who might work in construction or a similar field. He stops when he sees me, then glances between me and Courtney.
“Hey, babe,” Courtney says hesitantly, shooting me an uneasy look. “This is Nova.”
“Nova,” he says, more curiosity in his voice than cynicism. His smile is friendly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jake.”
“I was just leaving,” I blurt out, glancing at Courtney.
Jake grins, his curiosity growing. “Oh, yeah?”
Courtney rounds the counter, sliding into his side and accepting his embrace. I feel the burden ease off my shoulders, knowing that Courtney has someone who supports her. She isn’t alone, and that makes me feel relieved.
“Someone who…knew Chris,” she murmurs.
His smile falls, his expression turning serious. “How?” he bites out, eyeing me.
“Not like that,” Courtney interrupts before I can make a fool of myself, stuttering out a response.
“Where is he?” Jake asks me, giving me a hard look.
I can see the fear in his expression. He’s afraid that I’m an omen of Chris’ return. He’s afraid he might be kicked to the curb at the return of a man who truly did mess up with his family; who got a second chance he didn’t deserve and then died before he could take it. I don’t know Jake any better than I know Chris, but something tells me that Jake would never hurt Courtney the way Chris did.
Just because I’m doing this for Chris doesn’t mean he wasn’t a jerk when he was alive.
I lift my chin. “Not coming back,” I answer.
Courtney hiccups at my blunt answer, but Jake’s relief rolls through him.
Hitching my backpack up on my shoulders. “I should go,” I say, looking at Courtney.
She nods and steps away from Jake. “I’ll walk you out.”
I follow her out the same way we entered. When we get to the door, Courtney fidgets.
“Jake was one of Chris’ friends,” she explains, glancing toward where we left him, and I hear the guilt in her voice.
I reach for her hand, gripping it tight and drawing her attention to me. “Chris said one more thing that I think you should know. He said that he hoped you would find someone who makes you happy. Even if he hadn’t said that, he’s gone, Courtney,” I add. “Don’t feel guilty about something he’ll never know anyway.”
She tears up again, but nods. “You’re right. Jake is amazing. I’m so happy with him.”
“Then that’s all that matters,” I assure her.
When the door shuts behind me as I leave, I know I’ll never see this woman or her family again. But there’s something that feels right about that.
I did what I set out to do. I wasn’t shot, arrested, or locked up in a mental institution.
I’m calling it a success, and now I have a craving for more.