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Wolfe rose to his feet, back flexing as he stretched. I thought it odd a ghost would need to stretch, but maybe they didn’t lose those human motions—no matter how long they’d been gone.

“I haven’t seen you all day.” He touched my chin, lifting my face to his. “I—”

I smirked, leaning closer. “Yes? Did you miss me?”

There was no laughter in his eyes or his voice. “Yes,” he admitted. “Is that so terrible?”

“No,” I breathed, because I’d missed him too. “No, not at all.”

He nodded just once, a hint of life coming back to him. “This is where you tell me you missed me.”

I shrugged, playfully sliding from his grip. “And make it too easy for you? Never.”

Wolfe growled. I shrieked and sprinted toward the kitchen. His laugh followed as he gave chase, cornering me right by the bread oven I’d yet to use.

That playfulness was gone just as quickly as it had come. There were shadows clinging to him, dark ones that ate up the light he brought to each and every room. He looked…sad.

“I suppose I should get used to it,” he said softly.

“Used to what?” I asked, heart still racing against my ribs.

“Missing you.” He wrapped a strand of hair around his finger. For a moment, it looked as if nothing at all was holding it up, then the outline of his hand came in the dim lighting. “I will spend the rest of my existence doing it.”

His confession shook me, settling deep into my bones.

“Wolfe—”

“Your book has made me think.” He held up a hand when I protested. “I know, I know, but listen.” He moved closer, chest brushing mine. “Harper and Caden are two people who live on the same plane at the same time and they missed each other by inches for two years. You and I have connected in death,” he rasped. “We have connected despite the distances between us. I can’t help but think—”

I waited, hands curled against the counters so I didn’t claw his shirt and bring him closer.

“I can’t help but think my soul was waiting for yours,” he confessed, voice whisper-soft. “That the universe saw fit to give me what I’d been missing when I was alive. I’m grateful,” he continued, hand twining into my hair, “but I cannot help but think it’s still cruel, in a way, to give me you now when I cannot ever really have you.”

Tears burned up the back of my throat.

I felt the same.

All those years stumbling around my own life, looking for someone who understood me. Who wanted my time and my smiles. Who wanted to take the time to know me, to push my buttons, strip down my defenses, and make a home for themselves in the empty corners of my chest.

Wolfe had done that.

He tested me, tempted me, demanded my bravery.

He didn’t let me cower or hide.

He walked through the rough days and moments with me, never wavering or faltering. He made me laugh. He brought sunshine to the caverns and shadows in my heart.

My first real taste of love came from a man I could never fully reach or make my own. I couldn’t bring him home with me. Couldn’t take him to my favorite breakfast spots or tea house in the city. We wouldn’t celebrate holidays and birthdays. We’d never—

I bowed my head. “I dreamed of you.” The words were ravaged when they spilled from my mouth. “For so long.”

“Aye,” he mumbled, forehead pressing against mine. “So did I.”

We stood like that for a long time, kitchen growing dark around us.

“What do we do?” I asked some minutes or hours later.

Wolfe shifted, hand slipping to the back of my neck. It was a hum against my skin. It hooked down the length of my spine, settling into my already weak knees.