“Yeah. Sure.”
Sarah drove through the quiet streets. Her apartment was only five minutes from downtown. Trouble was, she wasn’t usually in the van when she went home. The hotel van would never fit in her tiny parking lot. Instead, she found parking on White Street in front of a closed laundromat.
“There’s no way I can park this bad boy outside my place. You don’t mind getting steps, do you?”
“No,” Lizzie called as she jumped out. “It might rain on us though.” She pointed upward. The sky was already dark with nightfall, but there were flashes in the distance. And a telltale rumble sounded too.
“See, we do get rain even in the spring. Anyway, it’s just around the corner.” Sarah was determined to sound sure, but she really wasn’t. The two walked swiftly, but it wasn’t enough. They’d barely made it two blocks when the rain started. Not a gentle shower but a proper downpour.
“Run!” Sarah was already in sprint mode as she called out to Lizzie. They ran down the sidewalk. Rain soaked through Sarah’s shirt in seconds. Her shoes splashed through puddles. Behind her, Lizzie was laughing.
Sarah’s building appeared ahead. She fumbled with her keys, finally got the door open. They tumbled into the lobby dripping and breathless.
“Jesus.” Lizzie was completely soaked. Her t-shirt clung to her body. “That came out of nowhere.”
“Welcome to Key West!” She unlocked her door. The apartment was dark and cool, the AC humming. Sarah flipped on the lights.
“Wow.” The awe in Lizzie’s voice was palpable, and Sarah saw the apartment through Lizzie’s eyes.
High ceilings with exposed beams. Original hardwood floors that gleamed even in the dim light. French doors leading to a small balcony. Furniture that mixed antique pieces with modern comfort. An old dresser.
“This is beautiful.” Lizzie walked to the French doors. “Is there a pool in the back?”
“Yes, but it’s not mine. It’s sort of communal but the people that rent the two cottages hog it all the time. This place used to be a cigar factory. And a hospital as well.” She grinned. “Supposedly, it’s also haunted.”
“Seriously?” Lizzie’s voice gave away the fact that she was not immune to horror stories.
“My neighbor swears she once felt a cold woman’s hand on her forehead.”
Lizzie shrank back, the awe in her voice replaced by something that might well have been fear.
“Sarah, that’s horrible!”
“No, she liked it. She was sick at the time with a fever. She thinks it was a nurse.” Sarah put the pie in the freezer. “Let me get towels. I’m not sure if it’s my ghost story or the fact that you’re soaking, but you’re shaking.”
In the bathroom, she caught her reflection. Her hair had come loose from its ponytail, dripping wet. Her white blouse was soaked through, her bra visible underneath. She looked like she’d gone swimming fully clothed. She grabbed two towels and went back out.
Lizzie stood by the French doors with her arms wrapped around herself. Her t-shirt was plastered to her skin. Water dripped from her hair onto the hardwood.
“Here.”
Sarah held out a towel. Lizzie reached for it. Their fingers touched.
Neither of them moved.
Sarah could feel her pulse in her throat. Lizzie was so close. Close enough to see the water droplets on her eyelashes. Close enough to smell rain and that floral shampoo.
“Sarah.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to go back yet.”
Sarah’s grip tightened on the towel. This was the moment. She could do the smart thing. The professional thing. Call an Uber and send her home.
Or she could do what she wanted. It didn’t take long to come to a decision.
“Then stay.”
