Chapter 28
Morgan
On Saturday morning, Sawyer is on key duty, following the semi-promising lead of the park where Zach would play ultimate Frisbee with his friends and coworkers.
Without work, and having no profound yearning to visit Zach’s favorite Frisbee course, I can rest a little before I start gardening.
I plan a luxurious extra thirty minutes of sleep.
I may even snooze my alarm once or twice.
Except, I don’t get to sleep in or snooze my alarm. My wake-up call ends up being an irritated ghost rattling all my cabinets loud enough to rouse me when the sunlight gently glowing through my blinds tells me I’m entitled to still be sleeping.
Groggily, I open my eyes to find Zach standing right by my bed.
I don’t startle. I just close my eyes and will him to dematerialize for a bit.
“Your alarm should have gone off thirty minutes ago.”
I feel the soft edges of sleep slipping from me. I roll over, mumbling into my pillowcase, “I turned it off so I could sleep in.”
Suddenly, I’m very cold, and then Zach appears on the other side of the bed in front of me once more. He drifted through me. “Not cool, man,” I murmur irately. Of course I won’t be able to sleep now. I need to shower for a hundred years to get the feeling of Zach off my skin.
Zach crosses his arms, unapologetic. “You’ll thank me later because Sawyer is on his way over here,” he announces. “I’ve been trying to work up the psychic energy to make a loud enough noise to wake you up when I realized your alarm didn’t go off. You sleep like the dead, dude.”
Now I sit up straight. “Sawyer is coming over here? Why?”
Is he home from Playa Vista already? When did he set out, five a.m.? Immediately, I feel torn in half. The thought of seeing Sawyer sets what feels suspiciously like butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
Until I remember Kennedy. It feels awful to realize my joy only exists because of her pain. It’s like a strange survivor’s guilt for a tragedy I didn’t even live through.
But Sawyer did. Doesn’t he deserve to be happy again, too?
The questions have run through my head since our visit to Zach’s old apartment, making me grateful for the distraction of everything I’ve had to do.
Even if I’ve hung onto the things Sawyer said to me like my own secret source of sunlight when I needed it.
You deserve to be happy. I owe you more than you could know.
“I told him you’re up by seven thirty. We have a lead to check out,” Zach says, his voice high-pitched and urgent.
“Let him check it out on his own,” I say, stifling a yawn.
Zach’s eyes flit to the side. He shifts his nonexistent weight. “He can’t.”
I narrow my eyes into a glare. I’m not sure if all ghosts are terrible liars or if it’s just Zach.
“What are you hiding?” I ask. If we’re both needed to check out a lead, it has to be either difficult or embarrassing or—I don’t even know.
The fact he’s hiding the reason from me is enough for me to know I won’t like whatever it is.
“Morgan, you’re wearing a see-through tank top and Sawyer is going to be here any minute.”
I look down, realizing—shit. He’s right.
This top is so ancient the threading is nearly translucent.
It’s one thing for my dead ex to see this; it’s another for Sawyer.
I groan and leap out of bed, hurrying to get dressed faster than I ever have before.
I put on an old, fitted, and very opaque red T-shirt and the first pair of jean shorts I can find.
I’m just pulling on my socks when I hear his knock on the front door.
Zach jumps like he’ll answer it, then seems to remember. He slouches as I pass him, half hopping as I stomp my feet into my sneakers.
This time, when I open the door, Sawyer isn’t just holding coffee. He has a bagel, too. The kind he must have gotten from a cool food truck. It smells incredible. Actually, it smells like my exact bagel order—everything-bagel sandwich with cream cheese, egg, and sausage.
“How?” I ask.
Sawyer keeps his cool, looking smug. “I have a man on the inside passing me intel.”
I whirl to face Zach. He shrugs, and seems to blush, if that’s even possible for a ghost. I didn’t realize Zach noticed my order every time he complained about me stopping to get breakfast before work.
I turn back to Sawyer and take the still-warm piece of heaven out of his hands, my stomach growling.
Or maybe those are just more butterflies.
“Since you’re bringing me breakfast, I’m guessing this new lead is going to be a long drive?” I ask, wondering if I sound hopeful.
Sawyer’s not wearing a sweater today. For the first time, he’s dressed for the summer in a linen shirt. My eyes are pulled to the hard lines of his chest beneath the soft fabric.
His grin is slanted. Okay, yes, it’s definitely butterflies.
“Don’t worry,” Sawyer assures me. “Zach promised to be our car DJ.”
—
Thirty minutes of Zach’s chaotic music selections later, Sawyer pulls into a large outdoor parking lot.
Huntington Gardens, the sign reads. Of course I know of the gardens.
I suspect even if I wasn’t a plant girl, I’d know about them.
They’re a somewhat famous location in Los Angeles, a rare carve-out inland for nature, and unsurprisingly a frequent movie and TV filming location.
I’ve wanted to go since I moved here, but I haven’t made the time.
I glance at Sawyer when he parks in one of the few shady spots under a tree.
“There’s no way Zach’s car keys are at the Huntington Gardens,” I say, not comprehending this strange plan.
“I didn’t know him that well, but if he’d had any interest in going to a botanical garden ever, we might have had a better first date. ”
Sawyer’s eyes light up like this delights him. His cheek dimples like he’s biting the inside. When he puts on his sunglasses, he looks particularly handsome, or maybe that’s just the amusement transforming his features.
I find myself quite annoyed. What right does he have to look this good when I’m not sure how to even act around him?
“Hmm,” Sawyer muses like he’s actually considering my point. “Should we go inside and look anyway?”
I don’t take off my seat belt. “No,” I reply, incredulous. “Why are we really here? Why did you pull me out of bed for a dead-end lead? I could be asleep right now.” I try to sound convincing, I really do. But I know it’s clear in my tone just how not upset I am to be here right now.
Suddenly, Zach leans forward between the seats from his floating perch in the back. “I told you she’d be stubborn,” he says to Sawyer.
“I can’t be stubborn when I don’t know what I’m being stubborn about,” I say, staring Sawyer down.
He sighs. “Fine, yes, Zach’s keys aren’t here.”
“No shit,” I reply.
Zach leans even farther onto the armrest between us. “This isn’t for me at all, actually,” he says happily.
Sawyer cranes his head around our ghost to see me. “We just wanted to thank you,” he says, his tone gentling with sincerity. “You’ve been working so hard this week to help both of us. We really appreciate it, and we wanted to give something back to you for once.”
I glance between them, my ghost ex and my haunted crush. “You’re…taking me to the Huntington Gardens?”
Excitement starts to curl my lips. I’m not going to do yard work today. Instead, I’m going to spend the day in nature I can simply enjoy. With Sawyer and—
Zach interrupts my thoughts. “He’s taking you,” my ghost says. “Have fun!” He waves cheekily and then disappears from the back seat.
Leaving Sawyer and me alone.
What was it I just said? If he’d had any interest in going to a botanical garden ever, we might have had a better first date.