Chapter Eighteen
Chapter
Eighteen
I spend the rest of the day with Elle and her family.
Vivian nearly squeezed the life out of me when Elle explained that I’d agreed to help.
I don’t think she heard me when I reiterated that I couldn’t make any promises, but then the doctors were there with the MRI results.
I volunteered to entertain the kids while the adults discussed Willa’s prognosis, making heavy use of the celebration sigil that creates tiny fireworks above my palm.
Even Willa seemed to enjoy the showy magic, a flicker of delight in her eyes as she watched from her wheelchair.
When Elle, Vivian, and Ted came back, their false cheer couldn’t hide the pain in their eyes.
I tried to duck out, to give the family privacy, but Vivian insisted that I come home with them for dinner.
And when Elle reached for my hand and rested her head against my shoulder to reiterate her sister’s invitation, I couldn’t say no.
But now it’s late, and since Elle and I drove separately to the hospital—and then to her sister’s house—we have to drive home alone, too. Not home, I remind myself. At least, not mine.
Elle’s taillights guide the way to Midnight Manor, and it’s a good thing, because I’m too distracted to navigate back to the B&B on my own.
My mind flips through the day’s events. Overlays everything I’ve learned against all the other interactions I’ve had with Elle.
Weighs our relationship against the others I’ve already lost.
Eriksons don’t let things slip, Perpetua.
Belonging to this family is a privilege. Not a right.
Despite what the most skittish, vulnerable parts of me insist, Elle isn’t anything like my mother.
I know that. I’ve seen how much she cares about her family.
She has a capacity for love that Nanette Erikson simply doesn’t possess.
If this thing between Elle and me is nothing more than a welcome distraction, doesn’t she deserve that?
Those thoughts weigh heavy on my chest as I follow Elle up the driveway to the manor. We park in our usual spots, and I push my own anxieties away. Even if the emotions that are real to me are simply a temporary comfort for Elle, I can do that for her.
When I exit the car, my back is stiff and the mood between us is serious.
Gone is the casual touch we enjoyed at the hospital and at Vivian’s place.
Her hand on my knee. Fingers intertwined.
An arm draped around my waist. Instead, she keeps strict distance between us while the waxing crescent of the moon oversees our approach to the B&B.
“The lights are on.” Elle stares up at the front door, confusion creasing her brow. “I thought Alex would be in bed by now.”
A pulsing sound filters through the wooden door. “Is that music?”
Elle hurries up the steps and slides her key into the lock, letting us inside. The heavy bass thuds against my chest, beating alongside my heart. It’s honestly impressive how much the doors and walls deadened the sound from the outside.
And then there’s Xander, skin sweat-slicked, eyes hazy, as he dances alone with a near-empty bottle of wine dangling from his fingertips. The dozen pairs of ghost goggles lay scattered on the side table, a final pair resting on Xander’s face.
He grins wide when he sees us. “My favorite girls are home!” Xan pulls us into a group hug, one arm wrapped around each of us, and presses a kiss to the tops of our heads.
He smells like he usually does—sun-kissed skin and sea air—with the added musk of sweat on his skin and wine on his breath.
Is all this because a cute guy at the antiques store flirted with him?
“Alex?” Elle’s voice is wary as she shrugs out from under his touch. “What are you doing?”
“I’m having a dance party with our roommates!
” He executes a spin, shimmying his hips, and points out each ghost in turn.
“The Jennifers are fabulous dancers. Which. Duh. They’ve been crashing proms since the nineties.
” Xan’s gait is wobbly as he leans close to whisper the next bit.
“I think Colton has a crush on Laney, but Laney refuses to dance with us.”
Over Xander’s shoulder, words appear on the original spirit board I made, now affixed to the wall in the foyer. In teal script, the cause of Xander’s drinking and dancing becomes clear.
Alex Looked Up an Ex on Social Media.
He Has a New Boyfriend.
“Oh, Xander, please tell me you didn’t.” When all I get is a confused look and the saddest puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen, I grab his phone from the side table and pause the music.
“Hey!”
“You looked up Barrett’s socials?”
“How do you—” Xander whirls around and glares at the spirit board, his attention tracking what I can only assume is Laney’s retreat. “Tattletale.”
Elle reaches with gentle fingers to pull the glasses away from Xander’s face. “What happened?”
He downs another swig of wine and sets the heavy bottle on the table. “It’s stupid.”
“That doesn’t mean it can’t hurt.” Elle puts the glasses with the rest of the pile and takes Xander’s hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs along his knuckles. A smile quirks up the corner of her lips. “Don’t make me tickle the answers out of you, Alexander Owens. I know all your weaknesses.”
The tenderness of her teasing tugs at my heart. Seeing them together like this is both beautiful and aching. I want to be part of this world with them, but for the moment, it’s like I’m not needed at all.
Xander tips his head to rest against Elle’s and sighs, all the tension falling out of his body. “His photos are public. I could see everything from the browser.”
“And he’s dating someone new?” Elle waits for him to nod. “Well, fuck him. He never deserved you, Alex.”
“I know,” he says, but his voice lacks conviction. “What about you? How was…um…” Xander pulls back and glances from Elle to me.
“Pippa knows. We bumped into each other at the hospital today.” Elle turns her soft smile on me, and it bridges some of the longing in my chest. Like she’s welcoming me into this moment. “She’s agreed to help.”
Elation and relief brighten Xander’s face. “I told you she would,” he says before turning back to Elle. “And Willa? How was the MRI?”
A frown pinches Elle’s expression, and she glances away. “It’s not good,” she says, but she doesn’t elaborate further.
The somber mood infuses the room, and I turn the music back on. “I think Xan had the right idea,” I yell over the beat. “We need to dance off this day.”
So we do. We dance and sing and make absolute fools of ourselves in the foyer.
Xander complains that all the ghost goggles are out of magical juice.
I use the amplification sigil on the three of us to expand our dance party to eight.
Well, six. Laney watches from their spot on the stairs, and Harry leans against the banister, only willing to tap his foot to the beat.
The Jennifers bump and grind to the music, crimped nineties hair swinging behind them.
Xander’s hands find my hips. I spin Elle and pull her close.
Her cheeks flush an adorable shade of pink, and for a moment, I think she’ll kiss me, right here in front of Xander, but she pulls away.
Leaves me to dance with Colton and Jenn T.
Moves her hips freely to the music in a way that has me desperate and wanting.
She smirks, like she knows what she’s doing, but she doesn’t beckon me close again.
She keeps her swiveling hips for the ghosts and for Xander and for herself.
For a few songs, we forget the things that are hard.
We forget about Barrett and his new beau.
We forget about MRI results and the brain cancer that will ultimately take Willa’s life.
I let myself forget Jackie and Marisol and their already cherished Rykelan. Forget the feeling of unconditional love, forget that it was the first time I’d felt such bright-burning care in my entire life.
But eventually, the music ends. Elle and I shuffle Xander upstairs and make him down a glass of water before he collapses in bed.
“I changed my mind. You should keep working on the ghost room,” Xander says as I tuck blankets up to his chin. “Dance parties will be easier if we can see everyone. The glasses don’t work long enough.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I promise, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Elle has already excused herself, slipping into their adjoined bathroom and presumably continuing on to her own room from there. “Get some sleep. And no more social media stalking. You’re moving forward. Not back.”
He murmurs an agreement, already half asleep in his bed.
I bend to kiss his cheek before slipping out of his room.
In the hall, I pause, unsure where to go.
I know Elle doesn’t want Xander to know about us, and tonight is further proof that she’s right, but we haven’t had a private moment since she got the MRI update.
She shouldn’t have to be alone tonight unless she truly wants to be.
I approach Elle’s door, my hand poised to knock, when I hear it. The soft snuffling. The bitten-back, keening whine of grief. “Elle?” I call her name and reach for the door, but the handle won’t turn. I knock and call her name again.
She sniffs, and I picture her wiping tears from her cheeks. “What do you want, Pippa?”
“Can I come in?”
There’s shuffling on the other side. Footsteps on the wooden floor. The door swings open, red eyes the only sign of the grief I know I heard. Her voice is an exhausted whisper when she asks, “What do you need, Pippa?”
“I don’t need anything,” I reassure her. I want to reach out, to hold her, but I don’t know if that’ll help or hurt. If she’ll think it’s worth it with Xander one door away. “I came to see what you need. Are you okay?”
She shrugs, and I feel like an idiot.
“Sorry, I know that’s a ridiculous question.
Of course you’re not okay.” I shift my weight awkwardly from one foot to the other as she crosses her arms tight against her chest. “I just…I want you to know you’re not alone.
I’m here. I can listen, or I can keep you company.
Or help you sleep.” I hold up my hands. “I’ve got magic for that, if you want it. ”
Elle stares at me, those pale green eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears.
“Unless you want to be alone,” I rush to add, swallowing the sinking sensation that I’ve overstepped, that I’ve read too much into all the times she’s reached for me today. “I can go if that’s what you want.”
“Wait.” The gentleness of her voice, the hope there, is stronger than any command. “Stay with me?”
“Always.” I step over the threshold and close the door behind me. “What do you need?” I ask, reaching for her hands. “What can I do?”
Elle shakes her head, and the tears spill free. “I’m tired of making decisions. Tired of being strong for this.”
“Oh, Ellie.” I pull her into my embrace, and she tucks her head into the crook of my neck. “You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. You don’t have to be strong. I’ve got you.”
A sob gets caught in her throat, and she smothers the noise against my shoulder.
“Let it out, love.” I hold her tight with one arm and let my free hand brush through her hair. “You won’t scare me away.”
“I don’t…I don’t want Alex to hear.”
“Well. That part is easy to solve.” I press a kiss to her temple and trace the concealment sigil in the air, shifting and forming the sound barrier into a bubble around Elle’s entire room. “There. Scream as loud as you need. He won’t hear a thing.”
A choked laugh bubbles out of her. “Such a serial killer move.” But then she sighs and leans deeper into my touch. “You’re so warm when you do magic.”
“Come on.” I tug her toward the bed and let her curl into me as she cries.
And when she’s out of tears, I bring her water and distract her with magic.
The tiny fireworks in my hands that delighted her nieces and nephew.
Calming sigils to ease some of the edges of her grief.
The same protection sigils I offered Rykelan to keep him safe.
Eventually, I release all the magic and simply hold her close, trying to fight the growing certainty that I’m falling for this woman. Even though I shouldn’t. Even though our time is short and a relationship has to be the furthest thing from her mind.
But I stay, fingers trailing up and down her back as the tension bleeds out of her body.
Until finally, she falls asleep in my arms.