“The Gloam?” I repeated.
“Old nickname,” Beau said. “No one knows who started it. Just kinda stuck.”
Whit nodded. “You get too deep in the Gloam and weird shit happens. Lights flicker, phones die, you lose track of time. And I’m not talkin’ drunk-lost—I'm talkin’ full daylight to moonrise in what feels like five minutes.”
“Anyone ever disappear?” I asked, half-joking, half-not.
“Not recently,” Delilah said.
“Hold up,” I said, raising my hands. “You’re saying peoplediddisappear?”
“Fuck yeah they did,” Whit muttered.
“Like who?”
“Kids going missing in the 50s,” Beau said. “A couple hikers in the 70s. Park ranger who got turned around and ended up twelve miles from where he swore he’d been. Nothin’ concrete. Just rumors. Campfire bullshit.”
“But that’s what you came here for, right?” Whit added, eyeing me. “The bullshit?”
I smiled. “Pretty much.”
Whit grinned again. “Then you’re gonna love this place.”
Beau groaned. “Don’t start.”
“I’m serious,” Whit went on. “If she’s lookin’ for weird, we’ve got it in spades. Glowing eyes, vanished hikers, ghostlyangels…hell, Beau, have you even told her about the wexorcism?”
Beau’s groan seemed to drag out into more of a long, pained sigh.
“There’s more than just the curse?” I asked him.
“Ah,” Delilah said. “So he told you about the curse that Rhett and Willow fucked away—but hedidn’ttell you about the wexorcism.”
“That was also Rhett and Willow,” Whit said. “They used a wedding to exorcise an evil presence from their property.”
“I mean, it was really moreJune’sthing,” Delilah cut in.
“Who’s June?” I asked.
“My best friend,” Delilah said?—
—at the same time that Whit said, “Our sister-in-law.”
Delilah and Whit glanced at each other like they’d accidentally stepped on a rake, then looked back at me.
“My best friendandtheir sister-in-law,” Delilah amended. “She’s married to Silas.”
“Brother number two?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Beau nodded. “Brother number two.”
Whit leaned forward again, clearly unable to help himself. “June’s a preacher, came to town to restore the old church. Fell in love with our brooding brother, fought off a ghost, exorcised a curse, and got herself a man in the process. Classic small-town romance shit.”
“Right,” I muttered. “Sounds like your usual rom com.”
“You know,” Delilah said, “Rhett and Willow host dinner at their place every Sunday night—even festival night, and it’ll be way less packed there than at Mabel’s. You should come.”
I glanced between them, caught slightly off-guard by the invitation. “Tonight? I mean…are you okay with that?”
