Page 40 of Haunted Ever After

“Maybe.” It still seemed like an extreme reaction. Nick had been set off the way you’d set off a Roman candle. Explosive. Chaotic. “Whatever it was, he was a dick. I don’t think he and I are going to be friends anymore.”

Sophie cocked an eyebrow. “I saw y’all on the ghost tour. There was nothing ‘friends’ about you two.”

“Well, there’s no more of that, either.” Now there was something to mourn. The way that, no matter the time of day, Nick smelled faintly of coffee and cinnamon. The way his hand felt on the small of her back: solid and sure. The curve of his smile and the rasp of his beard when he kissed her.

There’d been a spark between them, that was for sure. Something that felt real in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. But that spark had been well and truly doused this afternoon. Cassie let herself hold on to that regret for another moment, mentally pouring one out for what could have been between her and Nick.

Then she pushed the regret away completely. These were still new friends, and she couldn’t break down in front of them. There hadn’t been nearly enough wine for that.

Besides, she had more important things to discuss with Sophie. It was a relief, getting the topic of conversation off her. “Speaking of the ghost tour, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Sophie perked up, seizing on the new topic. “About the ghost tour? You want to tag along again? I don’t have very many signed up for Friday, so you’re welcome to join. Any warm bodies to help it look like a crowd.”

“No. I mean, sure, that sounds like fun. Count me in. But I’m talking about Sarah Hawkins. The story you tell on the tour about her and her husband. You said you got that from that book, right?”

Sophie nodded while Libby gathered up the pizza box and paper plates. “A Haunted History? That’s the one. Do you need a copy? I mean, Nick has them at the café, but the bookstore carries it too.”

The café. Ugh. God, she was gonna lose Hallowed Grounds too, wasn’t she? She’d already come to think of the place as a second office. Sure, it was out of necessity when her laptop wouldn’t charge, but Nick never seemed to mind too much, and the banana bread was a bonus.

“I have a few copies at the office,” Libby chimed in, bringing Cassie back on topic. “Honestly, try to avoid getting a copy of it in this town. It’s kind of everywhere.”

“Oh, I’ve already got one.” She went to the bookshelf in the living room. She’d left it there the night of the ghost tour, after coming home on the heels of her first kiss with Nick.

Cassie brandished the book as they settled onto her living room set. “How sure are you that this book is accurate?”

“Pretty sure.” Sophie and Libby exchanged another look, but this time Cassie was less annoyed. They weren’t trying to leave her out; they were bringing her in.

“Mr. Lindsay wrote it a million years ago,” Libby said.

“And it was part of our high school class, remember?” Sophie’s brow furrowed as she took the book from Cassie’s hand, flipping through it as though she didn’t have a battered, dog-eared copy at home. “Wouldn’t he want his book about the history of the town to be accurate?”

“You’d think,” Cassie said. “But Sarah thinks otherwise. She says you’re getting it wrong.”

“I’m…” Sophie dropped the book into her lap. “Sarah told you that?” Her voice was hushed, and her eyes darted around the room, as though she could spot Sarah lurking in the shadows. Cassie didn’t blame her; she’d just started coming around to the idea of communicating with ghosts herself. It helped that Sarah was moving the magnets around more; more exposure therapy for Cassie.

“She did.” Cassie gestured back to the fridge. “When I got back from the tour that night, she said ‘wrong.’ I don’t know what part of the story is wrong. Maybe all of it, I don’t know. And then she said ‘my house.’ ”

“We know it’s her house, though,” Libby said. “No one’s disputing that, right?”

Sophie shook her head. “The whole story can’t be wrong. We know she was married to C.S. We know he died. And we know that Sarah stayed on, and scared the kids as she got old, until she died here too.”

“We know all of that for sure?” Cassie didn’t want to argue. She was the newcomer. But there had to be something they were missing.

“As sure as I can be.” Sophie spoke slowly, as though she’d never had cause to doubt the story she was telling, but now was rethinking everything. “I mean, I didn’t fact-check the whole book, because I figured…”

“You figured he wouldn’t have any reason not to be accurate.”

“But what if he was full of shit?” Libby’s voice was hushed and a little dramatic after two glasses of wine. “Think about it. What if he just…” she waved a hand, “made it all up? Who was going to contradict him?”

“No.” Sophie shook her head hard. “He can’t have made it up. It’s got to be accurate. I base the entire ghost tour around that book!” She pressed her palm to her forehead, looking stressed.

“I’m not saying he made the whole thing up,” Cassie rushed to reassure her. Apparently she wasn’t the only one whose world was being rocked tonight. “I’ll look into it, okay? Maybe I can, I don’t know, ask Sarah to elaborate?”

“Oh, good idea.” Libby nodded emphatically. “Anything you need, let me know. We’re happy to help you out.” She gestured to include herself and Sophie, who nodded in agreement.

Cassie threw a glance over her shoulder into the darkened kitchen. She was gonna need a bigger fridge.

Eighteen

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