Page 86 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

What was in there? What had she left behind? What had someone not wanted her to find? Beneath all of this, threaded through every thought like something dark and inevitable, lay another dark and pain inducing thought: Theo was dead.

She swallowed, staring at nothing now. Who killed him? The question slipped in quietly, refusing to leave the exhausted confines of her mind. Who killed him . . . and why?

Augustine’s gaze drifted back to the ceiling, but she wasn’t seeing it any more. Instead, her mind was now full of Theo, and images of him surfaced without permission — his blue eyes, the way he’d lean just a little too close when he was with her, that wonderful warmth of his hand when she’d finally been able to touch him. The way he’d kissed her, soft and slow, like they had all the time in the world. She let out a small, fractured sound.

We don’t have any time left at all. He’s dead. Gone. All that’s left is his spirit, and I have to let that go, too. I have to let him go. Help him move on.

Augustine knew Theo had never been meant to linger in the shadows. He’d been too warm for that, too alive and full of spirit. Even now, when he was nothing more than a memory made into a man, the idea of him trapped between things felt wrong in a way that made her body physically ache. He deserved more than that. He deserved peace.

Her fingers loosened in the sheets, the tension in her body shifting as resolution flowed through her.

He wanted to make sure his girlfriend was okay, Augustine reminded herself. That was why he stayed. And that girlfriend was—

“Me,” she said, a little unsteadily. “So I need to show him that I’m okay.” A shaky breath left her. “And I will be okay,” she added, practising aloud, making a promise she would have to grow into. “I will be.”

Because if he was still here, if some part of him was waiting, watching and holding on, then she couldn’t let him see her like this. If she appeared at all broken, hurt, or unable to move on, he’d stay. That was just the kind of guy he was.

And she couldn’t let him stay. She wouldn’t let him do that to himself.

Her chest ached, but there was something steadier beneath it now. Something that felt almost like purpose. “I’ll help you,” she whispered, softer now. “I’ll help you move on.” The words trembled, but they didn’t fall apart. “And then . . .” Her voice caught, just for a second. “And then I’ll move on, too.”

Not in the same way, of course. Not into whatever waited beyond. But still forward, somehow.

Loving him, Augustine suddenly realized, meant letting him leave, and if she could do that — if she could just be strong enough for that — then maybe, someday, she could learn how to live with the space he left behind. Love didn’t disappear when someone did. She knew that already. She had known it since her mother vanished, leaving behind a house full of daughters and a grief that settled stubbornly into every corner of their lives.

Love stayed. It lingered in routines and empty chairs and conversations you could no longer finish; stayed in all the spaces someone used to fill.

Maybe love was the real ghost, Augustine thought.

For her mother, that had to be enough. While for her and Theo . . .

It would have to be enough again.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Augustine finally dragged herself out of bed and took a lukewarm shower before making a lukewarm cup of coffee. She was holding her drink in one hand and a half open tin of cat food in the other when the doorbell rang.

“Roy!” she called out. “Can you get that?”

There was no answer from her roommate however, and Augustine scowled. He’s probably still in bed, she realized. Probably still sound asleep, entirely untroubled by the ghosts of previous boyfriends, missing memories or secret doors behind walls. Lucky him.

She set the tin of cat food down on the counter, ignoring Bird’s chirrup of protest and hurried to the front door, tripping on a pair of boots on the way. She caught herself on the door frame, swearing under her breath before yanking the door open.

Her landlord, Steven, stood on the other side, and Augustine blinked at him. For a second — too long a second — her mind just . . . wandered, still somewhere else entirely, caught between ghosts and memories and everything she was trying not to feel. Steven shifted awkwardly under her gaze. “Uh, good morning? I’m here to fix the leaking pipe? I left a message yesterday.”

“Oh.” She blinked again, slower this time, like she was dragging herself back into her own body. She’d done that a lot this week. “Oh, yeah.”

The pipe. Right. Reality sank in and she chewed on her lip, caught between two worlds and feeling odd for it.

Steven waited, watching her with a puzzled expression. “So . . . can I come in?”

“Oh! Yeah. Of course,” Augustine replied, flushing slightly. She stepped back, pulling the door wider. “Come in.”

He nodded, brushing past her, and Bird immediately materialized from nowhere, winding around his legs like he’d been waiting all morning for a new victim.

“Nice cat,” Steven remarked, glancing down as Bird purred loudly, tail flicking.

“Thanks,” Augustine said automatically, shutting the door behind him. “He thinks everyone belongs to him once they walk through the door, though, so be prepared to have your personal space invaded.”