CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LINDY
“He’s an asshole,” I told Al.
The ghost had long since stopped rattling frames while I ranted about the man who broke both our hearts inside the space of a week.
“He’s not reliable, completely unbearable and not any of the things he was supposed to be.” I picked up a wine glass and hurled it at the fire.
The wine glass halted midair, though the red wine kept traveling and splattered against the opposite wall. Red drops dripped down the stonework in long streaks I knew would stain.
Like I wouldn’t be able to erase the memory of Covin from my heart.
Then the implications hit me through my alcohol induced heartbreak haze.
“You’re still here.” I let out a sob and waved toward where I assumed Al hovered about in my bedroom. “I thought I might have scared you off.”
The wine glass landed gently on the small table beside the fire. It turned in circles a few times then stopped. Then the edge of my blanket lifted in a silent question.
I nodded tiredly. “Why not? It’s not like I’ve got anyone else to cuddle tonight. At least we can be sad together.”
Holding up the middle of my blanket I was surprised when a cool, but solid presence pressed to my back.
“I thought he might be different, somehow. Someone I could trust. We could trust.” How wrong I’d been a second time. Why not make it a third? “You don’t deserve to be someone’s science experiment.”
Al moved against my back, and I sensed his agreement in that motion after a moment’s hesitation.
Huffing a laugh as the tears flowed, I nestled into the ghost’s embrace and cried myself to sleep.
Maybe tomorrow would be different. But I didn’t think so.