They each took one of what appeared to be blueberry muffins. Where they got the blueberries, he had no idea. He didn’t have any in the house.
Slate broke open his muffin, and it was still slightly warm. He took a bite and had to admit, they were good. Dash was chewing when he made eye contact with Slate. “These are actually good.”
Dash poured two mugs of coffee, and they carried their breakfast to the table. In the middle of a bite, Dash yawned. Slate didn’t blame him. They went to bed well after midnight. Believing they needed to clean the manor, Slate had set the alarm for six-thirty. Neither wanted to get up, but Slate made Dash roll out of bed. He groaned, but got dressed, muttering something about it being Meredith’s idea.
All that effort was for nothing. “We could’ve stayed in bed,” Slate said between bites.
“Yes, we could have.” Dash raised his eyebrows, and heat crawled up Slate’s neck.
Neither of them was prudish, but having Dash’s grandparents two doors away put a damper on sexy times. “I meant sleep.” Slate reached for his mug. “Right now, however, we’re having coffee.”
“Yes, but we still need to shower.” Dash’s grin was unrepentant.
The air between them charged with the frustration of trying to be good for too long. Dash theorized that because the bathroom was at the far end of their bedroom, no one would hear them unless they got loud. After two weeks, he was beginning not to care if anyone heard them. He popped the last of his muffin into his mouth and took a big sip of coffee. The place was clean, their guests were asleep, and breakfast was ready. “You’re right, we?—”
Slate felt Thomas and Oliver about the same time they materialized near the doorway. They held hands and seemed happy, but there was a nervous edge to their behavior. “Is everything okay?”
“We were wondering if we could have a room,” Oliver said in a rush of words Slate could barely decipher. “A bedroom, actually. Here in the Manor.”
Slate blinked and set his mug down carefully. “A room?”
“I believe he said bedroom,” Dash said with a grin.
“Yes,” Thomas added quickly. “We’d like our own bedroom to have some privacy.”
Too much had already happened, and it wasn’t even seven a.m. Clean house, ghost-made muffins, and now this. He regretted getting up early.
“Absolutely,” Dash said. “Just not our room or the two rooms currently in use, of course.”
“Of course,” Oliver said, visibly relieved. “There are plenty of others we can choose.”
The look of joy on their faces helped Slate get up to speed on what they were asking for and why. “The ones on the east side have nice sun in the morning. If you care about that sort of thing.”
Oliver’s form brightened, as if Dash’s agreement hadn’t been enough. The usually stoic Thomas wore a smile that softened much of the pain he carried with him. Slate gave them an A for not wasting time getting settled together.
“We’ll check out those rooms first,” Thomas said. “Thank you. Not just for the room.”
They vanished before Slate or Dash could respond.
The kitchen felt emptier without them. Quiet in a way that made the hum of the refrigerator suddenly audible.
Dash cradled his mug between his hands. “Do you think they can… you know?”
The question caught him off guard. Ghosts were spectral energy given form through will and memory. Physical interaction required them to become substantial enough to affect the living world. He’d seen Thomas open doors, watchedOliver pick up objects. But that level of solidity differed from intimate contact.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Me neither.” Dash’s expression shifted. “And right now, I’m not going to think about it because I need a shower.”
The fire reignited inside Slate. “Me too.”
He stood to put his cup in the sink, but Cain suddenly appeared in the middle of the kitchen. He kept his soldier form from the night before, and despite the uniform, he radiated peace. Contentment showed in every spectral line of his form.
“You clean up nice, Cain,” Dash said, grinning at their new friend.
“It felt right.” He shrugged. “I decided to keep it for now.”
From their initial meeting, Cain had seemed slightly out of phase with himself. Not any longer. “Good. Do whatever makes you happy.”
