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“I think so. You?” She nuzzled the crook of his neck, a gesture that would ordinarily fire up his libido. But this afternoon’s eerie events left him oddly disconnected from his body, especially the lustful parts.

He stroked her whisper-soft hair. “That was the strangest experience I’ve ever had. I feel—shaky.”

Understatement of the century. While he’d always assumed the energy that made up a soul had to gosomewhereafter death, he’d never spent much effort contemplating the great beyond. But now—

He rested his chin atop her bowed head. “Unless we’ve shared a group hallucination, I’ve got to admit, I’m convinced. Ghosts are real.”

“Makes you look at everything differently, doesn’t it?” She gave a little shudder. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Want some company while you work through it?”

She raised tear-sheened eyes to his. “Xander, I’m so honored you asked me to share this experience, but I need some alone time to write about this.”

His heart jolted. “You promised you wouldn’t—”

“Not for the newspaper,” she hurried to reassure him, “just in my journal. It’s how I process difficult things.”

“Oh. Okay.” A bit disappointed, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He’d much rather work through this strange experience while wrapped around Hannah’s soft body, her satiny skin against his. But he’d asked a lot of her since his arrival in Trappers Cove—her connections, her time, her love. To convince her he truly was in this for the long haul, he’d have to learn when to back off and give her space.

She pecked his lips. “I’ll text you later.” Turning, she started toward the door, then spun back. “And Xander?”

“Yeah, love?”

“You did the right thing.”

Chapter Eighteen

Itwaslikestaticelectricity, but stronger and with no ZAP when I touched metal. It was cold, but not scary, heavy, but not painful. It was like…

Hannah grunted and shut her journal with a snap. “And I call myself a journalist.”

She’d been writing for hours, but was no closer to finding the perfect words to capture what she’d experienced. That’s what she got for neglecting her journal, which she’d left untouched on her nightstand since last week’s midnight scribbles. Usually, with enough time and ink, her thoughts and feelings solidified into something concrete, something she could deal with. But this?

There was no doubt in her mind that what they’d experienced was real. Which meant ghosts were real, and living people could communicate with them.

Mind blown to smithereens.

Though she talked a good game about journalistic objectivity, she hadn’t really expected to see or feel anything during Zora’s woo-woo ceremony, just some nice smells and soothing chants to quiet Xander’s worries. Sure, she’d heard the rumors too. How could she not in a town this small? Plumbers, electricians, carpenters—seemingly everyone working on Souvenir Planet told of weird sights and sounds and sudden chills. But she hadn’t given much credence to their complaints. After all, it’s natural to be spooked where someone recently died.

She’d never forget seeing Gus’s body on the floor of his office, limbs at odd angles, dark eyes flat and staring.

Poor Xander. Bad enough that his living family didn’t believe he could revive Souvenir Planet—or succeed in any other business, for that matter. But even his dead uncle doubted him? How horribly disheartening.

And some kind of girlfriend she was, abandoning him to deal with the emotional aftermath.

For the fourth time, she promised herself she’d text him. Just a few more pages.

Shivering despite the toasty heat from the electric heater, she drew her TC High School Sharks stadium blanket tighter around her shoulders and turned her attention back to her journal. It fell open to last week’s entry.

Expand

Digonly

Savings

Ah, right. Sleep had eluded her that night, worries about the newspaper’s future itching like poison ivy. So she’d tried the old trick of writing down her intrusive thoughts. But what the hell had she meant?

Expandmade the most sense. If she expanded the paper’s scope—say, to the surrounding coastal towns or even the rest of Pacific County—she could attract more readers. She jotted a checkmark by that one.