Chapter 12 Dove
DOVE
The car museum reeked of history and information plaques, the kind of thing that excited Ellis, bored me, and sent Liv off the deep end as she plopped herself into every car she saw.
It was definitely the sort of place old men probably lost sleep over, or had wet dreams about.
A cavernous warehouse filled with gleaming chrome and slick paint jobs.
“Jesus, this leather feels expensive, even in death,” Liv gasped, running her hands along the seat of a bright yellow antique-looking car.
I let out a low whistle.
Liv dramatically mimed putting the car into gear, her expression severe as she gripped the wheel. I had to resist the urge to laugh. Instead, I turned on my heel and let my eyes sweep across the car-filled warehouse, a few other tourists hovering near displays or posing for photos.
Ellis stood a little off to the side, phone in hand, filming content. We’d just secured another Polaroid, which had been tucked away with the rest we’d collected along the way.
She spoke into the camera with a soft, lilting smile that softened her whole face, made her look less stoic and, in my opinion, a lot less constipated.
She seemed more at ease in front of the camera today.
Not so fakely animated… still engaged, but.
.. lighter. I chewed the inside of my lip as I wandered toward a teal Chevy Bel Air, pretending to read the plaque but really watching Ellis from the corner of my eye.
Last night, while piecing together her birth chart as she snored softly beside me, I had decided that she was annoyingly attractive.
Today, her red hair hung in natural waves down her back, the ends slightly curled without trying.
She’d pushed her sunglasses up onto her head to hold back a few strands, and her skin practically glowed beneath the warehouse’s fluorescent lights.
She wore a black tank top and those same blue mom jeans. Her white sneakers were still somehow immaculate, how she pulled that off, I had no idea.
Still, I felt a little less intimidated by her now.
Yes, she had her binders, her detailed trip notes, and laminated maps, but the image from yesterday had taken up permanent residency in my brain, and I was still riding the high of it.
Ellis, standing helpless by the side of the road, looking at me with those wide green eyes, asking if she should call roadside assistance—because, lo and behold, put-together, organized Ellis couldn’t change a tire.
And then, when the rain started, how she crouched beside me with the world’s smallest umbrella, her expression caught between awe and disbelief as I jacked up the car and got to work. There had been no binder to help her this time. No Google Doc. No laminated emergency protocol.
It had been me who saved her in that moment.
And yes, I had thrived.
And hell yes, it had given me a complex.
I looked back down at the plaque as Ellis stopped her recording and slipped her phone into her pocket.
I didn’t want to get caught staring. Again.
Instead, I crouched beside the vehicle, pretending to inspect the suspension.
She’d already caught me staring this morning over breakfast, and I’d stupidly blurted out that I had never seen someone order eggs so aggressively before.
She’d given me a slow blink and an arched brow in response.
I didn’t really know what had gotten into me, but ever since she’d offhandedly offered up the “I sometimes date women” line yesterday, it had been echoing in my brain. It landed with an unexpected weight, and now... well, now it felt different.
I had always found her attractive. That wasn’t the point.
The point was, I had definitely pegged her as straight, and therefore never tried to actually make her like me.
Hell, I thought I hadn’t even liked her.
Did I like her? Or was I just succumbing to some sort of lesbian cliché, where she was the only other queer girl in the room and therefore the universe was contractually obligated to make us hook up?
It didn’t help that I had also managed to find her online channels and had watched way too many videos, going back way too many years.
What she’d been through, her health, left me feeling wrong after I closed the tab.
She hadn’t brought it up, and I hadn’t asked.
And even though the videos were public, it still felt like I’d breached her privacy.
Like I should’ve waited for her to tell me herself.
Ugh. Why was I feeling like this?
“What are you looking at?”
Ellis’s voice jolted me from my thoughts. I glanced up at her as I rose to my feet, rubbing my palms along the hem of my oversized band tee.
“Suspension,” I said gruffly, clearing my throat.
“Riveting,” Ellis said dryly, and instead of her tone sending prickles of annoyance down my spine, I found myself grinning.
Shit.
I looked around, spotting Liv behind the wheel of yet another antique-looking car, draped across the seat like she was posing for a magazine shoot.
“I did not take her for a car person,” I murmured, tilting my head.
“I think she’s more of an appearances person,” Ellis replied.
Our eyes met just for a second.
She looked relaxed. Her eyes didn’t carry that tight, defensive look. She wasn’t anxious. She wasn’t lashing out. I mean, hell, we were still on schedule, so maybe that helped, but it felt... it felt like I was seeing her through a different lens now.
Something a little more understanding.
I mean, I’d seen her practically undone with that kid at Ted Drewes, and then the way she’d screamed out that name on the bridge when Liv tried to simulate her father’s suicide.
That thought brought me up short, because who the hell was Alexis, and why had that moment triggered Ellis?
“We should go soon,” Ellis said suddenly, clearing her throat and looking away.
I glanced back at Liv, who was duck-facing and pouting into a rearview mirror. I snorted, then bit my lip and nudged Ellis, finally airing the thought that had been circling my mind since the bridge stunt yesterday.
“You think we should, like, maybe ask Liv some actual questions about herself?” I asked, frowning.
Ellis looked over at Liv, her face cautious. “Like what?”
“Like, I don’t know... we have this ghost in our back seat, and all we really know is that she died, donated a bunch of organs, and now she’s stuck here like Casper, but with more eyeliner and way less friendly.
” I tugged at a loose thread on the hem of my shirt.
“Shouldn’t we know more? Like who she was before?
Her friends? Did she have weird hobbies? Biggest regrets? I don’t know.”
Ellis shrugged, an uncomfortable expression crossing her face.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Maybe we shouldn’t dig too deep. Maybe we should just stick to our agreement, get her to her mother, fulfill her road trip, and move on with our lives. No ghost. No eternal haunting. You know?”
“It just doesn’t feel right,” I said with a shrug. “I mean, don’t you want to know more about the person whose heart beats in your chest?”
“Not really,” Ellis said tightly, and I could see her familiar prickles starting to rise.
Her entire body shifted into something guarded.
Her arms folded. Her spine straightened.
A tightness bloomed along her jaw. The armor Ellis Langley had forgotten to put on this morning was now sliding back into place with familiar ease.
I bit the inside of my lip and chose my next words carefully.
“Why not? I’m not saying we turn it into some kind of therapy session or anything, but don’t you think it’s important to know who she was?
I mean, aside from the fact that she’s shown up in the afterlife with a bucketload of unfinished business.
.. Ellis, she simulated her dad’s suicide yesterday.
If I had someone else’s heart in my chest—”
“But you don’t,” Ellis cut in sharply, her green eyes flashing, a scowl already blooming across her face.
“Okay,” I said slowly, trying not to let my irritation rise. “But if I did, I think I’d want to know. It’s not like it’s weird. It’s natural human curiosity.”
Her lips thinned, and I saw the redness creep into her cheeks and around the tips of her ears.
“Maybe it’s natural for you,” she said coldly, and just like that, I was face-to-face with the Ellis from the reading room again. “But not all of us want to know the intimate details of the person whose life we stole, you know?”
My heart sank, and it felt like my blood was roaring in my ears.
This was going badly.
Her words sat heavily between us, and I watched as she blinked fast, looking around the room as if she could hold back the flood of words I knew rested on her lips.
Tourists continued to mill around us, and Liv persevered in her quest to sit in every single car, oblivious to the conversation we were having.
“She’s already said it before, and I agree with her.
I don’t deserve her heart,” Ellis said, her voice a little rougher now.
“She’s right, too. I don’t. I’m not a remarkable human being.
I haven’t done anything heroic or worthwhile.
All I’ve done my entire life is fight not to die, and for what?
For some unfathomable reason, someone else had to die for me to be here.
Someone who clearly lived a big life. A life I stole.
And now I’m supposed to get to know her?
Act like we’re all chill besties? Like this is some feel-good movie where we all learn valuable lessons, where we come out of this trip as bigger, better versions of ourselves? ”
“Ellis—” I began, but she kept going, hot and sharp.
“This isn’t some fun movie, Dove,” she said, her eyes flashing.
“We’re literally on the road, driving a ghost across state lines to find closure with her mother.
Maybe it sounds like an interesting plot, or, I don’t know, something out of Ghost Whisperer, but you’re not Jennifer Love Hewitt, and I’m not here willingly. ”