Page 26 of Caleb

The night they spent in each other’s arms lingered in Caleb’s mind like a bittersweet melody playing over and over. Every touch, every whispered word, had felt like a fragile bridge to the past—a momentary escape from the years and mistakes that lay between them. And then, like a sucker punch, the memory of waking up to an empty bed hit him all over again.

She’d left him. No note. No good-bye.

Just like he’d left her.

Caleb exhaled sharply, the irony twisting in his gut. The difference was when he’d left, he’d told himself it was for the best—that she was better off without him. But now, with her absence settling over him like a storm cloud, he realized how much it hurt to be on the receiving end of that silence.

Waking up alone with no chance to talk to her left Caleb feeling like the rug had been yanked out from under him. He had no idea if last night had meant anything to Taylor or if it had just been a fleeting moment for her, a way to close the chapter they’d never fully finished.

And honestly? It sucked—big time.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Caleb wasn’t the type to dwell, but this was different. Taylor had always been different.

Lying back, more determined than ever, he rolled onto his side, punching his pillow in frustration. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to care this much. But no matter how many excuses he threw at himself, none of them stuck.

Why did she leave?

He groaned, flipping onto his back again. The last thing he needed was another sleepless night of overthinking.

But then, faintly at first, he heard it.

A high, warbling sound floated through the stillness, off-key and startlingly loud against the quiet night. It sounded like sandpaper dragging across a rough surface, grating and uneven, setting his nerves on edge with every jarring note.

“Buffalo gals, won’t you come out tonight? Won’t you come out tonight? Won’t you come out tonight?”

Caleb bolted upright, his heart lurching. “What the hell?”

The voice grew louder, more persistent as if it were moving closer.

“Buffalo gals, won’t you come out tonight and dance by the light of the mooooon!”

His groan turned into a growl. “Eugenia,” he muttered.

Sure enough, the ghostly form of his great-great-great-great-grandmother shimmered into view at the foot of his bed, her hands clasped and her head tilted dramatically as she launched into another verse.

“Buffalo boys, don’t you sit there and mope! Won’t you grab your boots and learn how to cope!”

“Eugenia!” Caleb barked, but she ignored him, spinning in an exaggerated circle as if she were waltzing with an invisible partner.

The woman was undeniably dead, yet she always appeared annoyingly cheerful as if the afterlife held nothing but endless amusement at his expense.

“Oh, Buffalo boys, don’t you run and hide! It’s time to find your girl and swallow your pride!”

“Enough!” Caleb stood, glaring at her as she let out a laugh that sounded far too pleased with itself. “It’s the middle of the night. People are trying to sleep. Including me.”

She floated closer, her translucent form flickering slightly in the dim light. “Oh, sweetie, you weren’t sleeping. You were lying there brooding like a teenager with a crush.”

“I wasn’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “What do you want, Eugenia?”

Damn, how did the ghost manage to see so much? It was like she could peel back the layers he kept hidden, exposing thoughts and feelings he didn’t even want to admit to himself.

“What I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you and Taylor together,” she said, crossing her arms and tapping one ghostly foot on the floor, “for you to stop wallowing in self-pity anddosomething about it.”

“There’s nothing to do,” Caleb said tightly. “She left. End of story.”

Eugenia arched a delicate, ghostly brow. “Oh, darling, if you think that’s the end of the story, then you clearly inherited more of your father’s stubbornness than I realized.”

The mention of his father made his jaw tighten, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he tossed the sheet back and grabbed the shirt he’d discarded earlier, pulling it on as if to signal that this conversation was over. Then he grabbed his pants, the ghost watching him.

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