Page 14 of Almost You

“Dad!” She squealed and gave me a big hug. “Dad!”

They shared a giant meal of burgers, fries, and milkshakes. No doubt I’d gain ten pounds from it, but it did taste damn good.

Sometimes, if the ghost was stronger, they could pull out of me for a moment and shimmer in the air. But this guy was interested in my taste buds more than her. He did compel me to stroke the dog’s belly when the old beagle flipped over. And ridiculous baby talk emerged from my lips.

Maggie broke totally, claiming he always had loved the dog best. And she knew it was him channeling through me because Bootsy the Beagle was still the old man’s favorite.

The ghost left my body, and I was back. After Maggie paid me and took the dog home, I lay down, terribly tired. I fell asleep quickly and dreamed of Ghost.

He pulled me to his slender body and the touch of his skin gave me goose bumps. I fought for a second, writhingto break free, and then gave in. I had no choice, because I couldn’t calm down or refuse the fear and excitement dipping low in my stomach. I pressed myself to him. Pleaded for him to understand.

“I never did this with a man before. Or a ghost.”

He buried a hand in my hair. Drank in my words, my mouth. I slid my hands over the smooth, bare skin of his sculpted chest. I needed this. My whole body shook as if I’d lose myself if I couldn’t have him. If I couldn’t touch and taste him. Nothing had ever felt like this.

He ended the kiss with a wide smile.

“Touch me,” I begged.

He did. Stroking a gentle hand over my waist, thighs, belly, groin.

And I was happier than I’d ever been in my life.

Ghost

I had insomnia. I never rested. It was mostly worries that kept me pacing the ghost realm at all hours. The lump on my head remained. Would I never remember how I got it? Would I never remember this physical connection with my past?

And then one night, I slept in the softest bed imaginable. Downy quilts and satin sheets and everything good I could imagine. And I knew that I’d never slept in a bed like this in my life.

My tears fell fast. Once I began to cry, a dam inside me burst, and guttural, raw sobs began. I wailed and smacked the heel of my palm into the soft pillow. I screamed like a child and wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth.

As I finally quieted, I crawled out of the luxurious bed and blinked away the pretty bedroom I’d conjured.

And I thought of Christopher.

I could only miss him, so I missed him. His gruffness, his touch on my mouth, his sweet, deep laugh.

I longed to hold his hand and tell him things about my day.

I wanted Christopher so badly my ribs felt like they were breaking, my vision blurred, and my breath came in hard pants. I closed my eyes, wanting him, longing for him.

Christopher.

I opened my eyes. The bedroom had changed. It wasn’t luxurious; it was small, average. Except for the man sleeping on the bed. There was nothing average about him. His bulk took up the mattress. His warmth beckoned me closer.

Suddenly, somehow, I was here.

With Christopher, in his human realm.

Oh, God.

Was this real?

I went to the bed, stroking my fingers along his cheek. He moaned, moving slightly. Could he feel me? Sense me?

“Wake up,” I said, but the sound became garbled. I swallowed hard. In his mirror, I looked like a shimmer of light, not me.

He wasn’t waking. Maybe that was a good thing? I should leave here. If I even could.

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