Page 88 of River & Rue

I sigh. “Give me a minute to brush my teeth and put on some shoes.”

He salutes me and retreats. I turn to Rue, who looks up at me with laughter in her eyes.

“This isn’t over, Princess.”

She gulps.

I walk away, smiling.

31

rue

​. . .​

gil the pill

Outside, Kirk gives us two walkie-talkies and asks us to start at the Lodge and work our way out while he starts at the eastern fence and works his way in. He then informs us the golf cart is possessed by the spirit of his late brother, Gilbert, and if he acts up, we should call him Gil the Pill and threaten to cut out his battery.

River’s jaw clenches so hard his lips turn white, leaving me to nod sympathetically.

“Of course, Kirk. We’ll find him.”

“Thanks, kids. You’re a lifesaver.”

He jogs from the clearing, Birkenstocks thumping.

I give River a speculative glance as we start walking. “I’m surprised. I thought you’d be more receptive to that type of talk.”

A corner of his mouth quirks. “Just because I’ve witnessed some crazy shit doesn’t mean I believe every rando who talks about ghosts.”

“A skeptic in the Ashburn family? Impossible.”

He sends me a dry look. “You think Ivy hasn’t told me you still don’t buy into her sensitivity to auras?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe her. She wouldn’t lie about it. It’s just hard to wrap my head around something I’ve never seen myself.”

“Trust me, I get it. I also don’t think skepticism is always about lacking evidence. Sometimes it’s just who we are. Take my family—Ivy and Wilder are hardcore believers like Dad, but Olive and I are more like Mom. Same amount of evidence, totally different perspectives.”

“Rose is a skeptic? I would have thought out of all of you, she’d be the most open to—what do you guys call it? The paranormal? Metaphysical phenomena?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never heard Granny put a label on it, but my dad unironically calls it magic. I usually refer to it as the Ashburn Psychic Network—ironically, of course.”

I laugh. “Of course.”

“I can’t speak for Olive or my mom, but my general stance is that magic is both probable and implausible. If that makes any sense.”

I nod. “Magical agnosticism. I like it. We should start a club.”

“We should.” He smiles faintly, but his expression swiftly clouds. “When we were kids and first learning about what Granny could do, Mom told us to always remember that her insights came with a price. And she was right. Every message Granny’s given me, I’ve understood too late.”

I stare at the path, absorbing his words with a lump in my throat.

“I understand. Or at least, I know what it’s like to be haunted by hindsight.”

River’s hand brushes mine. On our next step, our pinkies link together. We don’t even look at each other, just keep walking like this is something we do every day.

How can such a small touch feel so momentous?