Chapter 2
Two
Riley
I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.
The smiling photos on the wall mock me. I’d never imagined myself being on the wrong side of them.
It’s been a week since the funeral and each day moves in slow motion.
The minutes feel like hours and I keep looking at the clock, wishing it would go faster.
A laugh crawls up my throat when I think about a joke Gareth made once .
. . “Too bad time machines don’t exist because if they did, I could go back and kiss you for the first time all over again. ”
He’d smiled so cheekily when he said it too.
My face falls when I realize how long it’s been since he said sappy words like that to me.
Things had been a little strained between us, and that’s why we’d been taking a trip out to his dad’s cabin.
We needed time for us again, and work had been getting in the way of that lately—his more than mine.
So many late nights at the office after his promotion meant so many dinners alone.
It’s almost as if our last months together were preparing me for this.
I straighten out the frames on the wall and stand back, looking at each one again.
We took one every year. It was always a different location.
I was as happy as I look, and I felt like he was too until that last photo.
I touch his hesitant smile, my heart squeezing when I see the way he seemed like he was somewhere else other than with me. There was a wider gap between us and his body language was all wrong. Were we on our way to being the end of us, and fate just sped up the process?
At least if he were alive, we’d have a chance to fix it and recreate those good photos again.
That can’t happen now. My shoulders slump and I run a hand through my hair.
The house is so quiet it’s loud, and I can’t stand being surrounded by it all day.
I’m not ready to go back to work but at the same time I am.
How do other people make it through? I’m not the only one who’s lost a husband, and I need to stop acting like I died in that wreck too. Although a part of me feels like it did. My phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s Leo calling.
Answering it, I place the phone to my ear. “Hey,” I push out.
“Hey. Whatcha up to?”
“Not much.” I shuffle in place, looking down at the box of Halloween decorations I forgot I was supposed to be hanging up.
“Want to go see a horror flick with me?”
“How old are you again?” I snort. “Who the heck calls them flicks anymore?”
He mutters under his breath. “Ugh fine, movie. Want to see a horror movie with me? There’ll be lots of gore and blood.”
“Oh, in that case . . . no,” I muse.
“Oh, come on. I’ll pay your way and take you for ice cream afterward.”
“Alright.” I force out a sigh, my lips threatening to break into a smile as I say, “But don’t expect me to put out just because I’m letting you feed me.”
His laughter echoes from the phone. “And there’s that best friend of mine. I knew he still existed somewhere in there, and you say that as if I’m not good at changing people’s minds.”
I bite back a grin. “Yeah, here I am telling you not to flatter yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah. So, I’ll pick you up in an hour?”
“Sure. See you then.”
“Yes you will, you lucky bastard you.”
I let out a soft chuckle and end the call, sliding my phone into my pocket.
My attention goes back to the photos on the wall and the hollow sensation from before comes barreling back inside my chest. Those laughs might have been real but the good feeling didn’t last as it should.
When will I go back to being myself again?
Everyone else is getting along okay. Sure, they all miss him and are sad, but they’re going back to their same old routines as if he’s been gone a while. Talking about haunted houses and fall festivals. Planning ahead when I keep wanting to go backward. Back to him.
The heel of my foot hits the box on the floor when I step back.
My eyes fall on the contents inside and I bend down to lift out a large fuzzy spider.
I hang it on the wall and keep reaching back into the box after that.
This was Gareth’s favorite season. He loved all things spooky and Halloween.
He would already have had all this up at the first of the month, and I can picture him looking down at me now asking what the hold-up was.
That leaves me smiling, and I put up more decorations, feeling closer to him with each pumpkin and ghost I touch.
When the box is empty, I go to the garage looking for more and freeze when I see a bag hiding at the bottom of one of the containers.
Tissue paper is wrapped around whatever’s inside. Did Gareth hide this here for me?
My heart pounds and I slowly reach inside, lifting up the paper. It’s a snow globe. My face wrinkles as I lift it higher in the air to study it. Why would he get me a snow globe of a place we’ve never been to before?
He’d been there for work but I never went along.
We’d talked about it before, but our schedules never lined up in order for it to work.
Was this going to be a surprise? Another trip away?
I shake the snow inside and turn the key at the bottom.
It plays a soft tune: one I don’t recognize.
Puzzled by the gift, I don’t hear the door open behind me and jump forward when a hand lands on my shoulder.
“Woah. It’s just me. I tried knocking but I guess you couldn’t hear over the music you’re playing. What is that anyway?”
My shoulders lift and I set the gift back in the bag. “A gift for me, I think? Or maybe someone in his family?”
“Huh. What’s the song from?”
I pinch the bridge between my nose, shaking my head. “Never heard it before, so I’m not sure.”
“Or maybe you have but forgot.”
“I mean, with the way my memory is, that’s possible.” Holding the bag away from me, I start walking back into the house.
“Why were you in here anyway?”
“Was putting up Halloween decorations.” I point toward the living room, and he steps closer to the glowing pumpkins.
“So you were. Reminds me, I need to get started on that.”
“Don’t you normally make Glen do it?”
His smile slants. “Yeah, but I’m always there to direct where I want things. The man is hot as fuck but has no sense of direction.”
Rolling my eyes, I fix one of the spiderwebs. “Maybe because you’re always shoving him where you want him to go.”
“Maybe,” he deadpans. “But everyone needs a little shove sometimes.”
“Is that the reason you’re really here?”
His hands slip into his pockets and he shoots me a sheepish look. “Nah, I’m here because I need someone to go see this movie with me. Glen hates slashers and this used to be something I did with you before life got crazy.”
“True, and it will be a relief to see someone having a worse week than me.”
“Well, today is your lucky day, because you will see a lot of people getting tortured and slaughtered.”
“Can’t wait.” I’d normally say, “better them than me,” but it’s hard to feel lucky being alive right now when it’s almost too painful to breathe.
Leo sets the popcorn on his left leg and I lower my hand inside, spilling some when a man in a black mask jumps out of nowhere.
Laughing, Leo shakes his head. “Somebody’s been suffering through way too many romcoms lately.”
“Romcoms are the last thing I want to see,” I whisper back.
“Good. They’re terrible.”
A lady nearby shoots us a look and Leo mouths an apology, staring back at the movie. He jumps against me and snickers, earning me a side glare. Not as many people die as I was expecting, and I scorn Leo about it as soon as the movie ends.
Laughing, he helps me gather our trash and follows me out the exit. “Hey, what can I say, the previews gave false promises. We can always go back to your place and watch Leatherface.”
“We can.”
“Or, actually . . .” He looks across the parking lot. “Let’s go over to that Wiccan shop and get a palm reading done.”
“You serious?” I sputter.
“Yeah. Why not? Could be fun.”
“I’d prefer a haunted house, but sure.”
“Haunted houses are for later in the month. You’re still going on the haunted hayride with us in two weeks, right?”
“You and Glen?”
“Yeah. I promise not to make you feel too much like a third wheel. He’s been acting weird and less touchy feely anyway.”
“Sure. Sounds fun.” And the kind of normal thing I should be doing. It’s better than moving around the house and stumbling upon weird hidden gifts I don’t understand. What if it was for someone else? Like a lover . . . My heart sinks. I can’t think that way. He wouldn’t do that to me. Or would he?
“You okay? I can always just take you home.”
Letting out a sigh, I shake my head. “No. Just having a hard time staying out of my head is all.”
“Well, maybe we’ll find something in that shop that’ll help, like healing stones or incense or something.”
I snort. “Suppose it’s worth a shot.”
“Yeah, even though you don’t believe in that kind of stuff.”
Who knows what I believe now. I no longer know who I am. I don’t recognize my face in the mirror or my voice when I talk. I’m a stranger to myself.
Ushering me forward, Leo leads us across the way, and I run with him as cars speed toward us.
He reaches the shop door before me, opening it to let me step in first. It’s warmer in here, the air smelling woodsy and smoky.
There’s a strange feeling drawing me to an area in the back, so I follow it, while Leo takes off in another direction to browse a collection of candles.
I stop in front of a row of leather-bound books, reaching for one in the center as if by instinct.
I pull it all the way out, resting it on one hand to flip through the first few pages.
The front door opens, letting in a gust of wind and the book’s pages flip on their own.
I’m about to go back to the beginning but then something on the top of a page catches my eyes.
“Bring them back spell.”
My fingers run over the words and my breathing catches in my throat when it shows someone rising from a grave.
A weird sensation stabs at my chest, and I quickly close the book when a voice startles me from behind. “Can I help you?”
I turn to face a woman with silver and black hair pulled back into a clip. Her eyes are a gray blue, and her face constricts when her gaze falls on the book in my hand.
“Have you ever practiced magic before?”
“No.” I swallow hard.
She swipes the book from my hands and places it back on the shelf, giving me a stiff smile. “Then I’m afraid that book isn’t for you. Come.” She steers me toward a table in the back. “I was told to expect you. Something bad is coming and you still have time to stop it.”
I sit in the chair she pulls out, and she sits across from me as soon as I lower myself into the seat. She lays her hand on the table, palm facing upward. “Give me your hand.”
Doing as she asks, I slowly slide my hand over hers and she flips it around, pressing a thumb into the center of my palm while twisting my wrist as she moves my hand from side to side.
“You just lost someone dear to you.”
“Yes.”
“He . . . he was someone you really loved.”
“Yeah.” My heart squeezes. “Very much. He was my husband.”
“He loved you too but not in the same way.”
My head tilts.
“There was someone else,” she says sharply, eyes piercing mine.
“No. What? I think you’re mistaken.”
She tugs my hand closer. “A man you know well. Dark hair and eyes.” Her eyes squint. “They wanted to run away together but the other man was hesitant.” She shakes her head. “No. Your husband was the one who was second guessing it. He wasn’t sure he was ready to walk away from what you two had.”
My heart feels like it’s stopping. “No.” I tug away from her, making the bottom of the chair scrape against the floor when I do. “That . . . you don’t know what you’re talking about. I would have known. All he did was work and then come home to me.”
“It’s hard to see the truth whenever we’re blinded by something much more consuming. Love made you blind to what was right in front of you. It’s often the reason for us making bad choices. Don’t let it be this time.”
“What?”
“There’s something dark latching itself onto you. It could have come from anywhere. Graveyards are common grounds where many spirits wait around for the perfect victim. They’re attracted to sadness and desperation.”
“Yeah, that’s enough of that.” Leo steps in, yanking me from my seat. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. This lady doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
She quickly stands up with me, walking after us as I’m pulled toward the exit. “Wait. Please. At least take this. It’ll protect you.” She lifts a satchel of some kind of herb.
“No. We don’t want anything you’re selling, lady.
Leave us alone,” Leo warns, placing himself between us.
I look into her eyes one last time before closing the door behind me.
There’s so much fear there. Why would she say all that about my husband?
Why would she say something’s attached itself to me?
The shop door opens when we’re halfway down the street and I whip my head back around. The gray-haired woman steps out, a hand pressed to her chest. “Don’t listen to the dreams. Don’t listen to what it’s promising you. It’s not your husband.”
A chill runs up my spine and a car passes between us, honking its horn.
When it’s gone, so is she. The door is shut and something else is pushing at my body alongside my friend.
It’s just the wind. Spirits aren’t real.
Leo is right. The woman is clearly off her rocker and probably only said all those things to make a sale.
Leo’s hand squeezes around mine as we reach the parking lot where his car is. “I’m sorry I took you there.”
“It’s okay. Was a lot scarier than any haunted house we could have gone to, that’s for sure.”
He laughs. “Touché.”
We get in the car and I look back at the shop as we pass it, thinking about the book I’d picked up.
Thinking about the spell that said it could bring someone back from the dead.
Then I quickly shake off the silly thought, sitting back in my seat.
When we arrive back at my house and I step out first, I swear I can hear the wind around me whispering, “Turn back around. Go back.”