Page 9
“Okay?” She raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that kind of answer. “Talk to me, Wynn. What’s going on?”
“Caleb is gone,” I admit, barely getting the phrase out.
“Oh, Wynnie,” she breathes, her face softening with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I mean, thank the Good Lord above that he’s gone, but I’m so sorry you’re going through heartbreak. I always hoped you would’ve mentally checked out of the relationship before it ended so you wouldn’t be so sad.”
“Blaire, I really think I’m losing it… for real. I had this crazy dream that some masked guy came into the house and killed him, but I was, like, weirdly calm about it because I was doing everything this guy was telling me to do. And then I woke up, and all of Caleb’s things were gone, but there was no dead body or even the tiniest hint of anything happening. Now flowers are showing up everywhere with these creepy-ass notes from some dude named Ghost. I’m not sure if it’s Caleb trying to mess with me or…”
I sound crazy speaking in one long, unstoppable stream. It was official.
“You’re definitely losing it,” Blaire teases with a grin, but the worry in her eyes is still clear. “You need to go see a therapist or something. There’s no way some rando guy came in and killed him, Wynnie. If he did, there would be a literal crime scene in your house. Blood doesn’t just disappear into thin air. You’re super stressed, obviously, and your psyche is probably on overdrive trying to put everything together.”
She’s always so logical, knowing exactly what it is that I need to hear. Probably why she is such a good nurse.
I still feel so frustrated rather than relieved.
“But what about the flowers? I’m not making that up.” I clock the unintentional attitude in my tone, immediately ready to apologize if she calls me out on it.
“Most likely, it’s Caleb trying to make things right. You know how he gets when he’s pushed too far—all grand gestures and empty promises. Or maybe someone else caught wind that there was trouble in paradise and is jumping on the opportunity to date the Wynnie Jackson.”
I groan, letting my head fall back against the couch, staring at the ceiling fan slowly spinning overhead.
“You’re right. Hudson, the guy from the library, he was all over me today, asking about the flowers. I’d guess he’s probably pumped that I’m single.”
“Probably hoping to do some pumping with you,” Blaire laughs, as if this situation can be fixed with something as simple as getting fucked by my co-worker. Still, her laughter is infectious, and for the space of a breath, the weight lifts off my conscience as I laugh alongside her.
“Anyways, take a few days off work and chill out. Embrace your new single life, and when you’re ready, let Hudson fuck the shit out of you. Might be exactly what you need. You know what they say: you can’t get over someone until you get under someone.”
I shake my head, taking another drink of my wine as she gives me a playful wink. Hudson was the furthest thing from my type; even in my most desperate of days, I wouldn’t even consider it.
“I’ve got to go. Love you, B.”
“Okay, love you, lady. Get it together; I’ll talk to you soon.”
The call ends, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. Thankfully, the wine seems to cull the sharp edges of my haze, and I lie back further on the couch. The notes in my pocket poke me, so I pull them out and throw them on the coffee table opposite me. The handwriting is so elegant; the words written are so deliberate.
Blaire is wrong; maybe for once in her life, it’s definitely not Caleb.
Ghost.
Who signs notes with a name like that? Every time I read it, my skin rises with goosebumps. I’m still staring at the notes when I hear the soft scrape of footsteps on my front porch. I keep the air trapped in my throat, listening closely.
I creep to the window and look through the curtains, but the porch is empty. Just shadows and the faint scent of the flowers sitting at my door. As I watch, I can swear I see a figure standing at the edge of my property, just beyond the reach of the single street light that sits in the yard.
When I blink, it’s gone.
* * *
My heart is overflowing with you.
My soul feels shattered, as if it cannot be whole
without ours intertwined.
Soon, my darling.
– Ghost
I roll my eyes. Another day, another set of flowers with a weird-ass note. The handwriting is becoming as familiar as my own, and each note sears into my memory. I trace the words with my fingertip, trying to find some clue I may have missed before.
