Page 1 of Chasing Your Ghost

prologue

Asher swore as his car pulled to the side. This was the last thing he needed.

Ella had called him after another one of her nightmares, and he’d had to drag himself out of bed to drive to her house. If her parents were around, she wouldn’t have needed to rely on her best friend, but they were away more than not, so the burden often fell to him.

Not that he thought of it as a burden, but sometimes he selfishly wished he didn’t have to give up hours of sleep to comfort his friend. Noah and Chris would be the first to tell him he needed to stop rushing off to her house whenever she called, but they didn’t understand. They’d never seen the haunted look in Ella’s eyes after she’d had one of her night terrors. They’d never seen the stark fear radiating from her. They’d never seen her break down and cry.

Sometimes Asher wondered if the nightmares Ella had were something more, that maybe something had happened to his friend in the past that caused her bad dreams. But she always refused to talk about the things she saw while asleep, and Asher had always respected her desire to remain tight-lipped.

If she ever felt the need to open up and talk about it, he knew she would reach out. He simply had to be patient; in the meantime, he would be there for her in the only way he could.

His other friends might dislike Ella, but Asher didn’t blame her for needing him. How could he when she was in that house alone, with nobody to comfort her or make her feel safe beside her Yorkie, Archie? And let’s be honest, no matter how much Ella loved the little guy, a Yorkie wasn’t the kind of dog that could make you feel protected.

A German Shepherd or a Rottweiler would have been a much better choice, but Ella had fallen in love with Archie the second she’d laid eyes on him.

So, Asher and a black and tan furball were all Ella had to rely on, and that night, it resulted in Asher having to pull over on the George Washington Memorial Parkway with a flat tire.

After getting out of the car, he slammed the door behind him. It was dark. He was tired. He just wanted to be at home in his bed, but instead, he was standing outside on a major road in the middle of the night. He knew it could be worse, but he was too drained to try to manifest any positivity right then.

When a car came around a bend in the road, its headlights blinding, Asher had to shield his eyes. He was waiting for the car to pass so he could lower his hand and get to finding and fixing the problem. Only it didn’t. Asher’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, and he watched as the car slowed and pulled over behind his Mazda hatchback.

The driver’s door opened, and a man climbed out of the car. “Need some help?” he asked, already walking in Asher’s direction.

His headlights outlined his form, making it impossible for Asher to see his face. Even when he got closer, the cap he was wearing obscured any features Asher might have been able to make out.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” Asher replied. “I’ve got it handled.”

The man shrugged and stopped a few feet in front of him. “Alright.” He started backing away. “Good luck.”

Asher turned his attention to his car, quickly finding the source of the problem. “Fantastic,” he bit out when he was crouching in front of the offending tire, the flashlight on his phone illuminating its deflated form. “Just what I needed.”

He let out a sigh, already exhausted just thinking of how long this would take him.

Maybe if he weren’t so preoccupied with his irritation over the situation, he would have heard the footsteps behind him sooner. Asher’s body tensed at the sound, his heart lurching in fright, and he spun around to face the man who’d pulled over and offered to help.

Something struck his face before he could react, and pain exploded in his head. Asher didn’t even get a chance to see the face of the person who’d attacked him before he fell into darkness.

1

“This is stupid,” Riley said to the ghost standing next to her. “For the hundredth time, why couldn’t I just post the letter?”

Her father sighed, tired of hearing those words repeatedly for the past two days. He placed a gray-tinged hand on her shoulder, and though she couldn’t feel the weight or warmth of it, she drew comfort from the gesture.

Riley knew that her father couldn’t feel the oppressive humidity or the searing heat that pressed against her skin, that he couldn’t smell the scent of freshly cut grass like she could, that he could feel nothing beneath his palm and fingers. His non-corporeal hand would have slipped right through her shoulder if he hadn’t gained some control over his form since his spirit had first appeared in their New York apartment two weeks earlier. Even so, all he was capable of was a phantom touch, nothing more than a shadow of the real thing.

“I know this is hard, but I need you to do this for me,” he said, his voice gentle even as he left her little choice. “I can’t move on until it’s done.”

“Fine,” she breathed out. “I suppose it’s too late to chicken out now anyway.” She’d spent over four hours on a bus to get to D.C., not to mention the money she’d spent getting an Uber from the bus station to the picturesque suburban house they now stood in front of in Fort Hunt, Virginia. If it weren’t for her dad, she would never have wasted the time or the money.

Her dad smiled. “That’s the spirit. Pun unintended.”

Riley sent a glare his way, letting him know his joke about his status as a ghost was not appreciated.

He winced. “Sorry.”

Chewing her bottom lip, Riley turned her attention back to the double-story house. “Here goes nothing,” she sighed before making her way to the front door.

She gulped when she reached it, her hand lifting reluctantly to ring the doorbell. Riley flinched as the electronic chime carried through the door to where she stood. There were cars in the driveway, but despite the evidence that people were at home, she was hoping nobody would answer. If nobody answered, she could go home and forget all about this. If nobody answered, her dad could find another way to move on. Wishful thinking at its best.

---