Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen
Nick got to the pier a little before seven to find Cassie waiting for him, just like they’d arranged. She was turned away, leaning on the railing, her eyes on Cemetery Island in the distance. Nick’s steps slowed as he approached. He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder as he let himself watch her while her attention was elsewhere. She’d changed for their date, her linen shorts and blue tank top practically formal wear on this warm evening. Her hair was caught up in a clip like always, but slight tendrils escaped, sticking to the back of her neck in the evening’s heat. He wanted to take her hair down. He wanted to spear his fingers through it, separating the strands, and spread it over her shoulders. How long was it? If he pulled her over him, would it fall around them both, hiding them from the world?
He was really getting ahead of himself. He couldn’t help it; she had that effect on him.
Nick cleared his throat hard and took a deliberate, heavy step onto the solid wooden boards of the pier, announcing his presence so he didn’t startle her. She turned at his approach, and he could only hope that his fantasies about her hair didn’t show on his face. But she just smiled, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head.
“I’ll admit, that island’s pretty cool,” she said. “Is there really a cemetery out there, or was that another bullshit story from the ghost tour?”
“It’s really there.” He thought about the big headstone, not far from the center of the cemetery. The one that marked where his great-great-grandparents were buried. The one that reminded him that this town was his family’s legacy. A legacy he didn’t take lightly, despite—or maybe because of—the rest of his family’s indifference.
But he didn’t want to go into all of that now. Tonight wasn’t about that. It was about showing Cassie his favorite spots in town. It was about enjoying a sunset with a pretty girl. “So, you ready?” He nodded back toward the street.
“Sure.” Cassie tucked her hands into the front pockets of her shorts, falling in step with him as they headed up the street, away from her house and the downtown area. He wasn’t taking her on the ghost tour route; she knew those parts already. “Isn’t the beach back that way?”
Nick nodded. “We’re not going there yet. Got a little time before the sun sets.”
“So where are we going first then?” she asked as they passed Jimmy’s bait shack and kayak rental, the ramshackle building locked up for the night. Not a lot of people fishing or kayaking at night, especially this time of year.
“Oh, here and there.” He kept the answer vague, hoping to add an air of mystery to the evening. But as they continued up the footpath on the side of the road, which was all but deserted on this Wednesday evening, he also realized that it was possible he’d added an air of serial killer as well. “Like I said before, I wanted to show you some stuff.”
Okay, that wasn’t much better.
“Stuff?” she repeated with a little laugh, bumping his shoulder with hers. “So specific, thank you.”
He huffed a laugh of his own in response. “Stuff that’s great about this town. That the tourists don’t know about. And the thing is, we kind of like it that way.”
“Like a dive bar that you don’t want the tourists to find, because they’d ruin the vibe?”
He blinked. That was…well, that was very close. “Pretty much,” he allowed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that ghosts…hauntings, whatever you want to call them…they’re everywhere around here. To the point that they’re just not a big deal. Don’t get me wrong,” he rushed to add as a shadow crossed over Cassie’s face. “Living with a ghost is a lot. Believe me, I know.”
Cassie tilted her head to the side. “You do?”
“You think Elmer just lives in my phone?” He shook his head. “After his wife died, he moved into the apartment upstairs from the café. The one I live in now. And when he died…well, he didn’t move out.”
“So y’all are, what, roommates?” Her voice pitched a note higher, her eyebrows arched, eyes wide.
Nick nodded. “Elmer came with the place, and the previous owners didn’t want to deal with him. So I got the business for a song. Your house was a bargain too, right?”
It didn’t take long for Cassie to catch his meaning. “I’m just not sure if I can get used to it.” Her tone was quiet, voicing something she didn’t want to admit, and Nick’s heart pitched southward toward the pit of his stomach.
But he kept his voice neutral, when all he wanted to do was plead. “Maybe not.” He wanted to connect their minds, so she could automatically see his perspective. But that was not only creepy but a scooch misogynistic, so instead he stuck with his original plan.
“I get it,” he said. “Being ambushed in your own house is the opposite of a good time. But that’s not what living in a town with ghosts is all about. I wanted to show you some of the cool things about it.” No pun intended, but she didn’t know that yet. “Okay, yeah, we’re a haunted town. But that doesn’t necessarily mean scary. For example…” They were almost at the stoplight now, where the main road opened up into four lanes going out of town. He gestured in front of them at the nondescript gray building by the street. “This is The Cold Spot.”
“Okay…” Cassie examined the building, and he tried to see it through her eyes. It didn’t look like much from the outside. Hell, it didn’t look like much on the inside, either, but that wasn’t where they were headed. “Wasn’t this in the book? I remember a picture of it. It used to be a gas station?”
Nick nodded. “These days it’s a bar. Tourists don’t come here much since it’s kind of far from the downtown area. It’s more of a locals-only place.”
“So we’re here for a drink?”
Nick shook his head. “We can, if you’re in the mood for a beer. Or the worst nachos you’ve ever had. But that’s not why we’re here.” He led her around the back of the building, where an old Studebaker rusted gently by a service bay door that had been welded shut decades ago.
Cassie laughed nervously. “Well, this doesn’t look sketchy at all. Is this where the serial killer is gonna…”
Nick knew the moment that she hit it. Her voice faded as he knew it would, and confused wonder suffused her face.
“Right?” he said.
“What the hell?” Her voice was little more than a whisper. She turned in a circle, her hands outstretched, trying to touch the air around her. “Where is this coming from?” She looked toward the bar, and he knew exactly what she was looking for: a stray air-conditioning vent, or a fan. Something, anything, that would explain why the spot she was standing in was a good twenty degrees colder than where Nick stood. Countless people over the years had done the same thing, and no one had ever found an explanation that made sense.
He stepped forward too, joining her in that space. It was like stepping into a blast chiller. The sudden chill raised goose pimples as the ever-present slick of perspiration that lived on his skin in the Florida summer instantly evaporated. He sighed happily, eyes falling closed in a slow blink like a contented cat, an involuntary reaction to the blissful cold.
But she’d asked him a question. “We don’t know where it comes from. Mr. Lindsay didn’t cover it in the book, and no one’s come across any accounts of anything weird happening around here.”
A little of the wonder slipped from Cassie’s face. “What does that mean? Like…someone was forgotten?”
He hadn’t thought about it that way, and now the thought made him frown. “I don’t know. Maybe. Must have been something from a long time ago, though. Maybe even from before the town was founded. It’s been checked out, more than once. One of those cable shows even came out, did a whole investigation with infrared cameras and all kinds of fancy equipment.”
Cassie smirked; she knew enough about the town by now to know how that had gone down. “I bet that went great.”
“About as well as you’d expect.” That crew had been a shitshow. A bunch of social media stars with their bells and whistles, telling Nick, and anyone else in Boneyard Key who would listen, how to look out for spirits and what to do if they saw one. Ghost-splaining, that was what it was. Elmer had a lot to say about those guys; Nick’s phone had blown up for days afterward.
He stepped out of the cold spot, where the heat and humidity of the evening was like a wet slap to the face, and extended a hand to Cassie. “This place gets really popular in the summer. Especially if we get a hurricane and lose power.” It was an odd but familiar sight during those times: people lined up to cool off in the town’s cold spot after a day of chainsawing trees and clearing away hurricane debris.
“I can imagine.” She took the hint—but not his hand, unfortunately—and followed him back around to the front of the bar. “So this place isn’t mentioned in the book at all?”
He shook his head as they started back down the street. “My theory is that Mr. Lindsay wanted this to remain a locals-only legend. We don’t want tourists hogging up all our cold.” He grinned in response to her laugh.
“Then I appreciate you showing it to me.”
“Well, sure,” he said easily. “You’re a local now, right?”
Cassie didn’t answer the question, and Nick tried not to notice. Instead she looked over her shoulder, back toward the bar. “We’re not going inside?”
“Nah.” No way in hell , he almost said. He could just picture it if he brought Cassie in there. It was fifty-fifty if Vince would behave himself, and even if he did, he’d give Nick an endless amount of shit the next time he saw him. “Not a very romantic spot,” he said instead.
“Where to next, then?” She looked up at him with trusting eyes, a look Nick could get used to.
“Beach sunset time.” The timing was perfect; the evening sun had started slanting across the sky, sending burnished orange rays through the Spanish moss draped over the trees lining the sidewalk on the edge of downtown.
The walk through downtown and to the beach bordered on awkward. More than once Nick almost reached for Cassie’s hand, but drew back before he did. More than once she swayed into him, bumping their arms together and then apart. Finally, sidewalk gave way to sand, and once they got to the shoreline the clutch of picnic tables came into view, tucked into a small cove. The site of countless family picnics and teenage debauchery over the decades, tonight it was deserted, just as Nick had hoped it would be.
Cassie picked up an empty beer bottle that lay in the sand near one of the picnic tables, pitching it into a nearby trash can as Nick set his backpack down. The backpack was probably overkill considering what was inside, but at least it looked cooler than carrying a shopping bag. He unzipped it, pulling out the single bottle of beer inside. After placing the bottle on the far edge of the table, he sat on one of the picnic bench seats, and Cassie joined him. She toed off her shoes, wiggling her toes into the sand, and he followed suit. The sand was warm on the soles of his feet.
“We splitting that?” She glanced over at the bottle, and Nick wanted to slap himself on the forehead. He was terrible at explaining things sometimes.
“That’s not for us. Remember the beach bum? From Sophie’s tour?”
It took a second for Cassie to remember, but Nick saw the moment that it clicked. “The drunk guy who hangs out on the beach?” She looked around as though she could see him in the lengthening shadows. Her gaze landed on the bottle again. “Bring him a beer. That was what you said, right? What’s his deal? Sophie didn’t say much.”
Nick shrugged. “My mom remembers him when she was in high school, back when she was hanging out at the beach with her friends. Not a lot for kids to do here on the weekends, you know? Anyway, when I was old enough to hang at the beach, one of my buddies brought beer he’d gotten on a fake ID over in Gainesville. He was going to pour one out for the beach bum and I thought, why not leave it in the bottle so he can drink it if he wants?”
“Like leaving cookies and milk for Santa?”
“Something like that.” Nick chuckled as Cassie turned back to the water, where the real show was just starting.
“Look at that.” Her voice was hushed. The sun was hanging heavy in the sky now, glowing bright orange, the clouds around it streaked with pinks and purples. The water of the Gulf was blue, reflecting the sky above, highlighted with bright deep gold from the setting sun.
“This was one of my favorite things to do growing up,” he said. “When I was confused or pissed off, or just felt like I didn’t have my head on straight, I’d come out here and watch the sun go down over the water. It would just…I don’t know. Clear things up inside my brain. Like a reset.”
“Sounds like something out of a Jimmy Buffett song.” A smile played around the corners of her mouth, and there was something about it that drew him in. He wanted to lean over. He wanted to kiss the corner of that mouth. She wasn’t giving off any get away from me vibes. But she also wasn’t giving off any get over here vibes, and he didn’t want to push it.
“I like it, though,” she said, her voice soft. “A reminder to slow down.” Her eyes scanned the horizon, and he watched her take it all in.
“I haven’t done it in a while, though.” He hadn’t realized it until he said it; when was the last time he’d walked down here and just spent a half hour watching the sunset? So many evenings lately he felt like staying home was the thing to do. Elmer didn’t get much company these days; Nick was basically his only option. It was like owning a dog that couldn’t leave the house; Nick couldn’t exactly take Elmer on a walk. But Nick was all the company Elmer had, so he stayed home. Probably more than he should.
“It’s a quiet thing to do,” Cassie said, her voice soft beside him. “And most tourists don’t like quiet. They’re at the bars, right? Watching this from the outdoor seating at a restaurant, or from their hotel rooms. They’re not just gonna come sit at the beach with no other stimulation.”
Nick gave a soft laugh. She knew her tourists. But of course she did; she was a Floridian, just not from here. “They need dinner and a show.”
“At least.”
The sky was lit up in orange and purple and gold, giving way to pinks and dark, dark indigo. The sun was really showing off now, throwing one last brilliant blaze of orange light across the sky. Nick and Cassie sat in comfortable silence, and as the sun disappeared for the night, Cassie leaned in, her head resting on his shoulder. She fit so well against him it was like she’d always been there. He could really get used to this.
Finally the sun slipped behind the water, and the single streetlamp clicked on for the night, triggered by the darkness. The show was over. The sky was dark, yet the heat of the day lingered as the humidity in the air hung on.
Instead of heading back the way they came, toward the sidewalk and downtown, Nick gestured to the water and the long expanse of beach. From here, they could barely see the lights of Cassie’s house, twinkling in the distance like stars sent to guide them home.
“I like this,” Cassie said. She carried her shoes in one hand, their bare feet sinking lightly into the sand as they walked. The waves hissed against the shore as they rolled in, dissipating close by but never close enough to risk getting wet. “It’s like a back road home. I should come this way more often when I’m—”
“Shhh.” Nick slipped his hand into hers, squeezing to get her attention. The warmth of her skin against his made everything in his brain skid to a halt, and he had to fight to remember what he was going to say. “You hear that?” He leaned down, breathing the words into her ear. He was trying to be quiet, he told himself. That was why he had to lean in so close. That was why his lips nearly brushed her ear.
She gave a minuscule shake of her head. “Hear what?” Her voice was little more than breath, and he wanted more. God, he wanted more. But he flicked his eyes back, indicating behind them, and he could tell the moment she heard it. Soft footsteps in the sand, five or six feet behind them. She turned to look over her shoulder. Nick turned too, and they could see them—the wet footprints of a strange pair of shoes appearing for a moment or two before disappearing into the sand.
Cassie stopped walking, and the footsteps stopped too, the last prints in the sand slowly fading away. With a glance up at Nick she started to walk again, and he followed. There was a pause, and then the footsteps behind them started up again too. Not fast, not slow. Just a steady stroll, keeping time with them.
Cassie’s eyes flew up to Nick’s. “Did we pick up a friend?”
“Thought we might,” Nick said carefully.
He expected her to react with alarm at the idea of being followed home by a ghost. But instead she smiled. “So he liked the beer, huh?”
“Looks like it.” Inside he was cheering. This had been a good idea after all. She had just met a ghost—two really, if you counted the cold spot—and she wasn’t freaking out. Maybe she was acclimating. She’d just needed a little time to get used to the quirks of Boneyard Key.
Her hand tightened in his, and she leaned her head against his arm as they continued up the beach. Yeah. He hoped that she could get used to this. Because he really, really could.