Page 13 of Before the Summer He Found Her

For fuck’s sake, sheworksfor me.

I don’t like that I’m doing this whatsoever.

Except, there’s a softer voice in the back of my mind, telling me I’m only here because I want to be. That the idea of getting to know her excites me.

That I want to know hersoul.

Squashing that niggling idea before it can blossom into something more, I shut my eyes and prepare to journey through time.

CHAPTER SIX

CHANNAH

Past

The steam from the shower calms my nerves and brings me only a momentary respite.

Shutting off the water, I open the glass door, gingerly stepping onto the bathroom floor. I reach for the towel, use it to dry my hair. Then, before I have a chance to look at the bruises covering my ribs, wrap the linen around my body.

There’s a mug of hot tea cooling in the bedroom. And on this exciting Saturday night, I’ve got a date with the first season ofStar Trek. This makes for better company than some of the more recent dates I’ve had. As that thought assaults my brain, Andrew’s face moves to the forefront of my mind, and my body tightens all over again.

No. No thinking of him tonight.

I don’t even bother dressing as I move into my bedroom and plop onto the mattress. I’ve been so distraught the last few weeks, between Dad’s funeral and other things, that I’ve washed my sheets every other day. So, the benefit of having stress-induced OCD is that right now, as I relax into my satin sheets, they smell of lavender and roses.

I’m hugging a pillow, adjusting in a way that will relieve the neck tension I’ve been experiencing. These days, I can’t often get comfortable enough to relax my body or my mind, but theStar Trekmarathon is just the ticket.

But when I’m reaching for the remote, I sense the golden energy again.

Sense it before I even see it.

Rising in bed, I lean against the headrest. Sure enough, a golden light glows in the shape of a large orb, covering a man with soft eyes. Like the last time, only his eyes are defined. They’re grey. Piercing. And god, those greyish blue eyes are angelic.

The rest of him remains a blur, like a ball of energy vaguely forming a man’s tall body. It looks like he’s wearing a suit, but I can’t say the color or exactly the type.

“You’re back,” I breathe, still in awe over this entire experience. While I’ve connected to spirits plenty of times in the past, it’s never been likethis.

As he focuses in on me, those eyes widen in shock. He shields his face with a blurry hand, gazing away.

“Shit,” he cusses. “I amsosorry!”

That’s whenIrealize.

“Oh, fuck,” I say, breaking out of this mesmerizing spell. Launching for my dresser, I bolt forward, nothing but a thin towel covering my body. While I don’t think dead people usually give a shit whether we wear clothes,Igive a shit, and clearly so does this dead man.

The guy shifts his body, turning his back toward me, respecting my boundaries. Which already makes me trust him more. Not that it’s hard to trust a person in the fifth dimension—this guy’s vibrating at a higher frequency. I felt it instantly the last time from my own empathic abilities, and I feel it now. So, I trust he’s coming from a place of truth and care, no matter why he’s here.

Quickly, I throw on the first pair of jeans and T-shirt I find—which happens to be myStar Trek TOScon 2019 shirt. Once dressed, I perch on the edge of my bed, and then, clear my throat.

“Who are you?” I ask as the man twists around. “How do youknowme? And what is happening here that I can see you like this? Do you know?”

“Ah, yes, well…” He’s gazing around my room, and his eyes land on the five framedStar Trekartworks hanging above my bed. Each one a painted portrait of an original character. I found them on an Etsy shop and fell in love. “Star Trekfan?”

“As much as you seem to be a fan of dodging questions,” I tease. “Yes. I have a weakness for artists who paintTrek.”

“Ah, seems you’re as big a fan as I am.” He grins, pointing at my bookshelf in the corner. “Is that an entire bookcase ofTOSbooks?”

“That it is,” I say proudly.

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