Chapter Two #2
Even from here, even in the dimness, I'd know her anywhere. She was Rainey. But different. Older. Harder around the edges. She wore jeans and a soft blouse, her chestnut hair falling in waves down her back, reading something—probably a script.
A knot formed under my ribs.
"Rainey!" Vivian called. "Come meet our Silas Black!"
Rainey glanced up. Froze.
Time stuttered. Recognition hit her like cold water—color draining from her face, then flooding back. Then something else flickered across her expression. Anger. Hurt. A wall slamming down so fast I almost missed it.
She walked toward us, chin up, shoulders back. She held herself like she was braced for a fight. When she got close enough, I could see her eyes—those luminous green eyes I'd memorized—were carefully blank.
"Ransom." My name came out flat. "I didn't know you were back in town."
That was a lie. In a town like Midnight Springs, she'd have heard by now. "Got in a few days ago."
"How nice." She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "Playing the ghost, then?"
"Apparently."
"How fitting." The words had edges.
Vivian glanced between us, clearly sensing the tension.
"Well! Why don't we start blocking the scene?
Rainey, you'll be center stage, trying to contact Silas's spirit.
Ransom, you'll appear behind her, drawn by her voice calling to you from beyond the grave.
It's a pivotal moment—the first time the phantom and his love interact. "
Other cast members had started arriving. I recognized a few faces—Knox Phillips who'd taught history when I was in high school, June Caldwell who still ran the diner, Bennett Cooper who'd set my broken arm when I was twelve. Small town theater. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew our history.
Great.
But then I saw someone else. Brooke Whitfield, walking in like she owned the place.
I remembered her from high school—pageant queen, drama club president, the girl who'd made a play for me before I'd started dating Rainey.
I'd broken things off with her fast and clean.
Apparently she'd gone to Hollywood after graduation. Apparently she was back.
She spotted me and her whole face lit up. "Ransom Hollis! Oh my God, I heard you were back in town!" She practically ran over, grabbing my arm. "You look amazing. Even better than high school, if that's possible."
"Brooke." I stepped back. "Didn't know you were back too."
"Just this summer. I'm teaching drama at the high school now.
" She flipped her blonde hair. "After my time in LA—I was on Baywatch, did you hear?
It was incredible. But you know—service has always been so important to me—I wanted to pay it forward, mentor the next generation.
" Her fingers traced my forearm. "Anyhoo, we should catch up properly. Maybe dinner? For old times' sake?"
From the corner of my eye, Rainey was staring.
I stepped back again, putting real space between us. "I'm not interested, Brooke. Let's keep this professional."
Her smile tightened, but she recovered fast. "Of course. Professional."
Before the awkwardness could settle, Vivian called for places. Rainey moved to center stage, and I took my position in the wings, waiting for my cue.
Mason Davenport adjusted the overhead lights from a ladder on stage—I remembered him vaguely from high school, a few years older, always working on sets, mostly keeping to himself.
Clay Burnett, the stage manager, called out positions.
The theater had that smell of old buildings—dust and time and memories.
Candles flickered on the stage, casting shadows that danced across velvet curtains.
"Remember," Vivian called, "Rainey, you're desperate to reach Silas. You loved him, and he died before you could tell him everything you needed to say. Channel that longing, that regret."
Rainey's shoulders tightened.
"And Ransom, you're drawn to her voice. She's the only thing anchoring your spirit to this world. Move slowly, deliberately. You're not quite human anymore."
The lights dimmed. In the candlelight, Rainey looked ethereal. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she'd transformed. She wasn't Rainey anymore—she was Evangeline, the grieving saloon girl calling to her lost love.
"Why did you leave me?" she whispered into the darkness.
The words hit like a fist to the gut. Because those weren't just Evangeline's words.
I stepped onto the stage, coming up behind her like Vivian had directed. Close enough to feel the heat from her body. Close enough to catch the scent of her—lavender, like always—that made my chest tight.
My line was simple.
"I never wanted to."
But the way it came out—rough, raw, real—wasn't acting. That was the truth I'd been carrying. The guilt that had eaten at me every single day since I'd left.
Rainey's breath caught. Her mask slipped for just a heartbeat. I saw the hurt underneath.
Then Vivian called "Hold!" and the spell broke. Rainey stepped away from me fast, putting distance between us. "Good. That was good. We'll work on the timing more, but that intensity is exactly what we need."
The rest of rehearsal blurred. More changing positions, more scenes, Vivian encouraging the actors to discover the true motivations of their characters. Brooke kept finding reasons to stand too close, to make comments about "chemistry" and "working closely together." I kept moving away.
Through it all, I watched Rainey. How she became the lovelorn saloon girl on stage, losing herself in the role. How she carefully avoided looking at me when we weren't required to interact.
God, I'd missed her.
When Vivian finally called it for the night, the cast started gathering their things, chatting about the production. Rainey headed toward the prop room, away from the crowd.
This might be my only chance.
I followed her into the dimness at the back of the stage. She was looking through a rack of costumes, her back to me.
"Rainey."
She stiffened but didn't turn around. "Don't."
"I need to—"
"Five years, Ransom." Now she did turn, and the anger in her eyes was worse than I'd imagined. "Not even a text. Not a call. Not a single word to tell me if you were alive or dead or just done with me."
"I know."
"You know?" Her laugh was bitter. "That's all you have to say? You know?"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix anything." She grabbed a shawl from the rack, gripping it like a lifeline.
"Sorry doesn't make up for wondering what I did wrong.
Of checking my phone every day thinking maybe today you'd remember I existed.
Of trying to convince myself I didn't care when clearly I was stupid enough to care way too much. "
Each word landed like a punch. I'd earned every single one. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was never about you."
"Then what was it about?" She moved closer, those green eyes blazing. "Because from where I stood, one day we were planning a future, and the next day you were gone. No explanation. No goodbye. Nothing."
I opened my mouth, but the words stuck. How could I explain without breaking the promise I'd made to Aiden? Without telling her things I'd sworn never to tell anyone?
"I can't—" I started.
"Can't what? Can't tell me? Can't be bothered to come up with a decent excuse?
" She shook her head. "You know what? It doesn't matter anymore.
We have to work together for the next few weeks.
Let's just keep it professional and pretend we're strangers otherwise.
Shouldn't be too hard. We basically are now. "
She started to walk past me, and I caught her arm. Just a touch, but she froze.
"We're not strangers," I said quietly. "We could never be strangers."
For a heartbeat, her expression softened. Then the wall slammed back up.
"Let go, Ransom."
I did. Let her walk away. Wanted to call after her but didn't know what words would possibly be enough.
I stood there in the empty backstage area, surrounded by props and costumes and the ghosts of old performances. Movement caught my eye—up in one of the side boxes, second tier. Just a flicker, a shape pulling back into shadow.
I stared up at the darkened box. The theater had cleared out. Everyone was gone.
Except apparently not everyone.
I climbed the narrow stairs to the upper level, boots echoing on old wood. But when I reached the box, I found nothing but dust-covered seats and darkness.
Still. Someone had been up here. I'd bet money on it.
I made my way back down and wondered if coming back to Midnight Springs had been the biggest mistake of my life.
Or maybe leaving in the first place had been the mistake, and coming back was the only chance I'd ever have to make it right.
Either way, I was staying. Whether Rainey Bell wanted me to or not.
I just had to figure out how to prove to her that this time, I meant it. This time, I wasn't going anywhere.
Even if it killed me.