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Ghost on the Shore {3}

pairing: tom loftis x f!reader summary: the island had its mysterious ways of calling people back to it, and you had a way of following that call; but your first few days back, figuring out whatever it is you have going on with Tom Loftis, turn out more to be what you bargained for when some of the ghost stories come to life word count: 16.9k (lol) note: guys when I say I am truly so excited to share this with you all like...everyone being so hype gets me hype!! hence why i accidentally spilled out 16.9k words in one chapter but also bc i knew there was a long gap between parts and i want to keep my homies SPOILED

{1} {2}

Chapter Three: All Roads Lead to...Widows Bay?

Widows Bay looked different in all the best ways when I came off the ferry. The sun wasn’t hiding as much as it did before and it gave way to crowds of families entering the island. Even the sailboats were out in the dozens along the perimeter. It felt strange not being the only one on the ferry, but there was a sense of pride that came with knowing I may have helped.

Maybe fate did have a hand in this, though I would never admit it. I couldn’t even tell my family or coworkers I was going to come back without them eyeing me with the notion that this was meant to be. But I shrugged it off and didn’t bring it up again.

A month had passed since that phone call changed everything I thought I knew about my summer. I still had trips I needed to make for work and things to get done and arranged for the interns. This was already my allotted time off, meant to be in Montauk with other couples in my friend group from the city.

Which, as the only single one in my group, I was already dreading it.

So I made the long commute back to Widows Bay instead and a couple nights earlier than planned.

This time, I dragged a small suitcase behind me as I walked through the harbor, wearing a long white skirt drifting around my ankles and a tank top. The weather was much kinder this time around as well.

Seagulls gawked overhead, and I could still hear the bells from the harbor behind me in my wake as I followed the flow of pedestrian traffic towards the main road into town. I noticed a few new signs and storefronts, like everything was dusted off and spruced up for the season. It was such a treat, my smile everlasting as I took it all in.

One spot I noticed that was placed near the inn I’d be staying at again was a new and improved coffee place called the Driftwood Cafe.

As I caught my bearings, the street was angled in a way that made me stuck in my spot for a moment longer. It winded up, disappearing behind a curved row of homes and their naturally weathered wood sidings. I pushed my sunglasses up to the top of my head and I lifted my camera, taking a few photos and getting the pedestrian crowded sidewalks in there as well.

Tom and Patricia were helping take in a delivery at the new cafe but he spent most of the time bargaining with the new barista on the right way to use the equipment. It was clear that neither of them knew though and both bickered over the instruction manual that still sat in the box. At this point, Patricia made them stand on opposite sides of the store and he heaved out a sigh as he went towards the window.

The 11 o’clock ferry was just arriving judging by the wave of tourists that walked under the clear sky. He could stare out this window for hours to proudly welcome everyone in; there were families, couples, groups of friends and–

He leaned forward, nose almost touching the glass as he caught sight of one woman standing alone, her long white skirt blowing gently in the breeze at her ankles. A camera blocked her face, but Tom’s heart was already pushing against the window too as if it recognized her before his mind could. But then she lowered the camera, and Tom’s mouth went dry as the sunlight perfectly sat atop her head and her smile widened.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself in disbelief, lips pulling instinctively.

Tom’s face must have looked ridiculous through the window, glaring to get a good look at the stranger who stood on the sidewalk.

My grin widened and I raised my hand to wave, almost a little fearful he’d fall through the window.

Tom moved quickly through the cafe doors, staring down at me in awe. Bubbles rose through my chest, tightening and making me feel afloat all the same, an excitement I hadn’t known in a long while. He hurried down the steps, and I naturally drifted a little closer. To no surprise he sported a vest over a soft blue plaid button up shirt, hair slightly tossed from the breeze. The way he looked at me even with such distance between us solidified everything for me.

“What are you doing here?!” Tom called out, an indeterminate sound of laughter and relief passing through his smile.

He awkwardly paused before me, hands lifting as if to go in for a hug and I held my breath as I took the leap on my own and wrapped my arms around his abdomen before he could shy away completely.

It seemed fair to upgrade from a handshake.

As I pulled back to look up at him, my hands still centered around his center while his came to my shoulders, the slight callousness of his palms leaving goosebumps in their wake as they slid up my arm. It sent a swell through the rest of my body, making me almost forget how to answer.

“I had a few days of vacation I could use so I decided to come a little bit earlier.” I answered eagerly. “But please don’t panic if you have other plans. I am perfectly capable of a little exploring.”

Tom shook his head, still slackjawed as he looked down at me.

“No, that’s—that’s fine, that’s amazing.” he stammered. “I—“

“You’re back!” Patrica gleefully interrupted, bolting down from the cafe. She looked equally if not more ecstatic than Tom did and just when I thought she’d sever our arms to hug me too, she restrained herself.

“I’m back!” I mirrored, finally stepping back from Tom.

“And I would love to show you what’s new,” Tom winced, head turning between her and the direction Town Hall was in, struggling like a fish caught on a hook. “But I have a few things to wrap up and—“

I gently placed my hand on his arm. “It’s okay! Really.” I assured. “I knew the implications of arriving a little early.”

Patricia’s hand shot up in the air. “Ooh, I have an idea! Why don’t you come to a wine night with me and my friends.”

Tom’s face scrunched up. “You don’t have any—“

She cut him a sharp glare. “I do and it’ll be fun!”

I slowly turned back to Tom, a smile plastered on my closed lips and he was already boiling over with frustration.

“It’s fine. I think that’s a great idea.” I said to Patricia before glancing at him again, speaking quieter again. “You have me for almost two weeks, if you can stand me that long.”

Tom let out a nervous huff, averting his eyes to the ground as if to shield the pink in his face. But as Patricia crept back to the cafe, I turned all my attention towards him, shuffling closer to close that distance again.

“I will have to wait a bit longer then.” he sighed reluctantly.

Carefully, my hands lifted to rest at the back of his neck, my mouth running dry as he nervously let his hands settle at my sides. “You waited this long. What’s a few more hours?” I enticed.

Tom cleared his throat, his touch soft yet sending a fire up along my spine. I watched closely to make sure I wasn’t crossing a line, but his grin hung lazily and the tension already seemed to leave his shoulders, even though there was a heat creeping up his neck.

“Come by Town Hall around three? I have some time in the afternoon.”

I nodded gleefully, retracting my hands to step back. His fingers lingered on the fabric of my skirt for a split second longer.

I grabbed the handle of my luggage while Tom went back to the direction I presumed Town Hall was in. By the time I checked in and got settled in that same corner room, I was already turning back around. As I came back into the hallway, locking the old wooden door behind, I nearly put myself on a collision course with two children no older than five and eight.

Their giggles and bounding steps disappeared down the hall and I turned to see the parents, a couple that had to be around my age, apologizing as they chased behind them.

“It’s alright,” I assured.

My gaze lingered on the family as they all disappeared, lingering on the space they once occupied even after they were gone with a subtle heaviness to my heart. I shook it off and returned to the busy streets as more tourists arrived.

I actually didn’t get to visit the town hall the last time I was here so my navigation was a little sluggish. I walked up the stairs of the old massive home as other locals breezed in and out. It was like an old house renovated to support makeshift offices, smelling faintly of mildew and an old air conditioner that belonged to an old shorefront home.

Most places down here had that same shore air that seemed to seep into the paint.

My senses got the best of me as I cautiously wandered down the hallways, unaware of the direction I was even going in as I followed the same dark wood paneled walls. But suddenly, a petite woman who looked too old to be working appeared, making me jump out of my skin.

“Oh—I’m so sorry, you startled me.” I breathed out.

She smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry dear. I have that effect on people.”

“Do you know where the mayor's office is?” I asked, hesitating for some reason.

The lady perked up. “Oh, right this way!”

They went up the large staircase, which took a painfully long time as I followed behind her individual steps. I glanced around occasionally, taking in the paintings that dotted the walls since we had all the time in the world. Now I felt kind of guilty making this elderly woman hike up the stairs but she didn’t seem to mind.

Finally, she pointed me in the direction of the office and I quickly hurried off after thanking her, not needing her to lead anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I gently knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Tom’s voice rang out.

Peeking my head in, I greeted him with a smile. “Is this still a good time?”

Something of relief broke across his face.

“Yes, this is perfect.” he said, putting down his pen with almost a little too much enthusiasm. “I hope you didn’t have to talk to too many people on the way in here.”

“On the contrary, I got stuck behind one very slow older woman.”

He sighed. “Ruth.”

“Is that the famous assistant who can’t stay past three?” I asked, noticing the small desk outside of his office with her nameplate on it.

Nodding, Tom stood up from his desk. But I was getting closer, looking at the little pieces of him that manifested across his office. It was pretty spacious to my surprise and outside of the regular furniture and filing cabinets, he had the occasional painting, a photo of his son, and a nice pen. Of course, there were notepads with his name printed on it.

“Yes, I’m surprised you remembered that,” he chuckled, “but, Ruth is actually leaving closer to noon these days.”

I raised my brows. “Does that have anything to do with the fact that she looks ninety?”

Tom brushed it off, standing on the opposite side of his desk now as I still observed. This is where he was with many of our phone calls so it was interesting to set the scene.

“Yeah, but her spirit is still at least sixty. She likes to work. Keeps her mind sharp.” he shrugged.

I laughed at his attempt. “Well I’m glad you have such a loyal employee.” I took a glance at all the paperwork that littered his desk, and looked back up at him. “Are you sure I’m not pulling you away from anything? I really don’t mind hanging out with Patricia for the afternoon.”

Tom’s face scrunched up as he vehemently shook his head. He had stepped closer again to where your hip leaned against the edge of the desk.

“Absolutely not. I’m ecstatic you’re here. Paperwork can wait until tomorrow.” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders.

I froze, and I could feel it down to his fingertips that he did too, and he retracted. Smiling lazily up at him, I accepted that answer though.

Before I could make any more protests, Tom grabbed his keys and we descended upon the town. I had to ask him how much of this was truly from the article and he said at least seventy percent of it. Although, I still think he was being a tad generous.

We walked through the town center and he pointed out the changes; an upgraded ice cream and candy shoppe, a new boutique, and several other little sign changes here and there.

The entire time, I was mindful to keep my distance as people greeted him after recognizing him from a brochure—which reminded me I needed to get my hands on one.

Even still, I didn’t want to look like I was hanging on his arm.

But even when he’d get pulled away, his eyes would lift and find me already watching him. It amazed me how he carried the role so well, but it was clear how much the increase in tourism brightened his mood. This was still the same person whose dry sense of humor wrought its way into my heart.

Whenever he was pulled away though, he’d rebound back to my side to continue the tour.

The next stop was to pick up sandwiches from the diner they spent their last morning together just a couple short months ago. Turns out they made amazing cutlets these days. But where they were going after remained a mystery to me.

“This plan seems really elaborate for such short notice.” I commented, hopping in the passenger seat of his car.

He glanced at me with a half smirk. “I’m just that good.”

I nodded along. “Sure,” I dragged out. “But really, where are we going?”

We started to peel away from the town, the radio playing A Flock of Seagulls to which I discreetly reached over to turn up a little bit.

“It’s a surprise.” Tom scoffed. “It was a surprise meant for Saturday's fireworks but we’re ahead of schedule.”

My lips curved upwards as I glanced at him. I certainly wasn’t expecting this level of detail to my visit but I was pleasantly surprised. I had to fight the urge to make sure he wasn’t missing out on anything else.

“I won’t make a peep until we arrive then.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s fine. I’m just—I’m surprised you don’t remember mentioning it over the phone.”

“We had a lot of phone calls over the past month—“

But then I paused, as a faint thought crept up into my conscience. There were lots of phone calls, but a few weeks ago when I asked about what new amenities the town had to offer me this time, he wouldn’t spill. I then remembered vaguely mentioning something about wanting a picnic on the beach if nothing else.

“We’re going to the beach, aren’t we?” I asked, looking back at him with a widened smile.

Tom nodded, his modesty slipping through the cracks of his proud grin.

“For a journalist, it took you an awfully long time to piece that together.”

I laughed again, resting my head in my palm against the open window. As we winded down more back roads that led to the beach, the greenery in between was filled with scents of pine and sandy shores. The sun was still high in the late afternoon, its warmth peaking through the trees and onto my arm.

“Gosh, and to think I was so nervous about coming here,” I said more to the breeze than anyone in particular.

Tom did a double take. “You were nervous?”

I glanced at him, one brow raised.

“Of course, I was.” I almost scoffed. “It’s not every summer I’m back visiting the mayor of an island town after only ever meeting once.”

“God, I hope not.” he sighed in relief.

I chuckled again. “I’m allowed to be nervous over a crush, even if I’m in my thirties.”

Tom’s eyes lit up even as they were focused on the road. I noticed the way his hands clenched around the wheel, and the way a blush crept his neck and it was easy to spot because I felt the same on my own.

“I am, too.” he stammered. “Nervous, I mean. “

My head rolled to look at him. “I’m that intimidating?” I asked.

“Well, yeah.” he said with a faux seriousness I could see through. “Not every summer I ask a reporter to come back to go on a beach picnic date.”

“God, I hope not.” I mocked him.

We arrived at the beach shortly thereafter, my skin warmed by the sun and the fizzling of my nerves. Tom opened the door for me and was carrying a blanket to sit on. It felt so refreshing compared to the dates I’ve been on in the city.

“This is where we have the inaugural swim. That’ll be on Saturday if you’re feeling up to watching me swim out to that buoy.” Tom pointed as we dug into our lunch.

I looked out on the water which started to blend into a silvery blue as the sun started to make its descent and there was the red buoy that seemed a little too faraway.

“Why do you have to swim out there?” I asked.

He took a deep breath, looking like he was trying to figure out a sensible way to answer…he had that look a lot.

“It’s just a tradition,” He shrugged. “Mayor swims, declares the beach open, unless a shark eats me and I then I guess that means the beach can’t open.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, tilting my head at the water. “That would be a shame, I guess.”

“I guess?” he asked, offended.

I couldn’t hide my smile even as I bit into my sandwich.

“Yeah, I guess. But I’ll be there regardless.”

Saturday felt so far away ever since I showed up early. The guilt of doing so was nonexistent now though as I sat on the cool sand, watching as the tide went back out for the evening, the sky above changing into a lilac color at the horizon. I started my morning on a train in the city and now, I could look over and finally see Tom instead of a phone call.

We had several phone calls after his declaration, if that’s what you could call it. I wish I could have dropped everything right then and there. But instead, I had to be an adult and make a reasonable plan. Until then, we called once or twice a week.

The same flutter in my chest remained every time.

“So, tell me,” I began, leaning back on my palms. “What would your week have looked like without my early arrival?”

Tom’s eyes pulled from the water, blending with it almost completely.

“I promised my son I’d be home to watch the Red Sox with him tonight. Yell at the TV and that fun stuff. But my civic duty remains the same, lots of meetings leading up to this weekend.”

“I guess that’s a good thing though? Being busy?” I asked him.

He nodded quickly in response. “I don’t think I’ve ever been grateful to be busy until now.”

“You’re welcome.” I teased.

“Oh, you—“ Tom laughed.

He had then leaned back, shaking his head at me, and as he did his fingertips settled over mine.

“You know I can’t thank you enough—“

Goosebumps rose upon my arms, and I glanced at him quickly before looking back out at the waters.

“You already did. These sandwiches were amazing.”

Laughter settled between the two of us, blending into the sound of small waves rolling up the shore. I didn’t move my hand and neither did he as we continued to talk with no shortage of subjects.

Even when it came time to leave, I hardly felt sad knowing that we’d at least see each other the next day.

The drive to Patricia’s home took us into a neighborhood I had yet to explore on Widows Bay. The roads were hilly, single homes of varying sizes sprinkled about between the tall trees. It felt like the drive on the way to the cape growing up. She wondered what kind of house Tom lived in.

“Alright, well, this is Patricia’s.” Tom said, pulling up to her house.

“Thank you for the lunch and the picnic.” I beamed. “It was spectacular even for such short notice.”

Tom’s hand tapped on the armrest as he sheepishly glanced down.

“I do work best under pressure.”

I held my grin as I looked at him, trying not to laugh. “I don’t want to push that theory.” I said as I grabbed my bag and got out of the car.

He leaned over so he could still see me on the road.

“Uh, feel free to head by Town Hall again tomorrow if you want to, I don’t know, do any work on the computer. The new cafe has WiFi too.”

“And it works?”

His face sank with defeat, as if it almost didn’t at one point.

“Yes, it works.” Tom sighed.

“Meet me for coffee in the morning then?” I asked him.

I knew he’d dance around the words, as he did whether on the phone or in person, and at my suggestion he seemingly settled into an answer when his shoulders relaxed.

“I know where to find you,” he answered.

That was a yes then.

I finally closed the door and walked up to Patricia’s.

Before I could even knock though, she opened it and was waiting for me.

“Hi!” Patricia beamed.

“Hi!” I mirrored, still momentarily stunned.

As she stepped aside for me to come inside, she waved to Tom for me and shut the door. I started to wonder what I had gotten myself into.

“So, how was your date?” Patricia asked, leading me to her kitchen. “Also, do you like red or white wine?”

“White,” I quickly answered. “But whatever you have is fine. I’ll drink anything,” I chuckled. “And it wasn’t a big date.”

“I’ll let you believe that.”

The single home was nice; despite her being the only one in it, it felt cozy and lived in all the same. There were hints of Patricia in the way there were plants scattered around, books left on the coffee table, and the best part of it was her small kitchen that had such a retro feel to it. Part of me was a little jealous, having been living in a high rise for so long.

“Your home is beautiful, by the way.” I added into the silence as I sat at her dining room table.

Patricia sat the wine down and took a seat across from me.

“Thank you,” she nodded curtly.

I was waiting for her to add something else, but there was only silence.

“It was my parents house. I grew up in here.”

I lifted my eyes, slightly surprised. “That’s so wonderful. I don’t even think I could afford to live in my childhood home that my parents still have.”

Patricia snickered and went quiet again, the silence filled with the sipping of our wine and the glass hitting the table. It felt so different from the girl I would email a couple times a week with near paragraphs sending back and forth.

“So, what have you been up to since I left? Any town gossip?” I asked.

That seemed to light something up in her. It reminded me of talking to my childhood self actually; like she was waiting for permission to take up space in a conversation. She rattled off about the locals, how someone broke into her Pattiwagon (but didn’t take anything so we think she may have just left the loose door unlocked), and just how the towns been pretty busy trying to prepare for the summer.

“I’m glad people are coming but I’m still kind of surprised.” she shrugged. “With the Boogeyman, the clown killer, and that really haunted inn…” she shook her head.

I tilted my head. “Wait, I didn’t hear the boogeyman story.”

Patricia heaved a sigh. “You’re gonna need another glass before we leave.”

“That has never been a problem for me.” I jokingly teased.

But then she went into the story about a serial killer who roamed the island and my eyes were wide the whole time. Especially when it got to the part where the killer came to her house and she hid under her bed.

“God, Patricia, that must have been terrifying.” I gawked. “Why didn’t I hear about it the last time?”

She half laughed, half scoffed, eyes drifting to the table. Even the most jarring of stories she took in stride like they were no big deal.

“Tom made me promise not to bring it up. He thinks I talk about it too much.

I frowned. “I’m gonna have words with him.”

This time, a more amused look crossed her face. “You really like him, don’t you?”

I took a deep breath and had another sip of my wine, already feeling a subconscious smirk appearing. Patricia seemed to enjoy that response though.

“I do, but I’m treading carefully. This could just be a short vacation fling and nothing ever again for all I know.”

Patricia stood, prepping an unopened bottle to take with them and I tossed back the rest of my glass.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’ll just be that.”

“How come?” I asked, following her out the door of her home.

“Because he really wouldn’t stop talking about you after the first time you left and that was just after a day of knowing you. I fear he will become incapacitated as mayor when you have to go home.”

I didn’t say anything to that, and even did well to keep my composure as we hit the road. Her friend's house was a few blocks away, nothing compared to the walking I normally did in the city. It was a beautiful night out and something changed in our conversations, filled with a little more laughter and a little less awkwardness. We walked mostly in the street as there were no sidewalks in the homes scattered through the trees, but it made it feel a bit more exciting.

But I would occasionally glance over to see her readjust her scarf–once and then again, two more times. Then she couldn’t pick which hand to keep the bottle in. I wanted to ask if she was alright, but I hit a roadblock. Maybe it was meant to go unnoticed.

The sun was pretty much obsolete by the time they arrived at the home of Patricia’s friends. As I followed her on the porch, I could hear the gentle music from inside. I had to admit I was a little nervous.

Patricia knocked and the woman answered with a polite smile that noticeably faded, her eyes drifting over the two of us.

“Patricia…and Patricia’s friend.”

I could see through it already.

“You said to stop by?” Patricia responded. “I brought my friend, if that’s alright. She’s visiting from out of town.”

I gently waved, only to be met with a painfully forced smile. “Of course, of course. Come on in.”

She conveniently forgot to open the door for us, but I could let that pass for now. I was the guest here after all.

When we finally got inside, I almost immediately felt as awkward as Patricia. These women all looked straight out of a Talbots catalog and just when I thought Patricia’s scarf and brooch might stand out, I realized I was the one out of place with my long skirt and tank top from a Target I stopped at on the way to the ferry.

I was directed to the kitchen, my vision tunneling to escape the sideways glares I could feel. But I quickly realized she stopped behind me to join a conversation when I was already in the kitchen.

“Oh no, please don’t touch that.” a shrill voice rose as I turned to find her.

I narrowed my eyes as I poked my head around the archway to see it was Patricia on the receiving end of that voice but thankfully, a kinder woman with short hair guided her to the kitchen where I waited for her. The woman's name was Shelby.

“I only know Lenore here, hence why I’m on my third glass of wine.” she chuckled.

I raised my own glass. “I think I’m going to double that to get through this crowd.”

Patricia snickered and the three of us started to have a pretty nice conversation. It was a bit of a weight off my shoulders, and Patricia’s too by the looks of it, especially with how the other women seemed to have an underlying viciousness to them that this friend did not. Even the other girls in the field I work with can be cutthroat, but New England moms were a different level.

Shelby brought up the other girls who were murdered once Patricia mentioned she graduated with most of these women, and I could feel the room drop a few degrees.

But as I listened to Patricia’s story again, another woman tried to squeeze behind her. I almost gasped before it happened because I could foresee it and suddenly, her shoulder bumped into Patricia’s and the wine spilled on her top.

“Patricia, here–” I said quickly, grabbing some paper towels.

She brushed it off, completely unfazed. “I’ll just run to the bathroom real quick.”

I was worried by how she treated it like it didn’t even happen. But maybe in a way it was the only way to react around this group. Even Shelby looked a little sad for her as she disappeared behind another door.

“Here, come meet some of the others with me.” Shelby suggested.

I really didn’t want to, but I smiled and followed along anyway. Everyone’s heads turned almost in sync that it made me fight to keep a straight face.

“Hi, I’m Kris.” one woman said, her shorter figure coming through the others to greet me. “How do you know Patricia?”

It felt like a strange thing to ask off the bat, or maybe this evening was starting to put me on edge.

“Oh, I um, came here back in April to write an article for the Times and she gave me a tour. We also have just been emailing since then about books and things.” I answered sweetly.

All of them exchanged glances that maybe were meant to be discreet but far from it. I tilted my head in confusion a bit.

“Am I missing something?” I asked, edging a bit on the blunt side.

“No, nothing.” Kris smiled widely. “I read that article, I think. It was lovely what you said about the town!”

“And the mayor,” another woman chimed in with a grin.

I chuckled along with the girls who flocked the dining room table, but my smile didn’t really meet my eyes. I could feel like something else was brewing underneath it all. The comment mentioning the mayor though made me more defensive than I anticipated it would.

“So, Patricia told you both about how the Boogeyman supposedly came to her house?” Kris asked, referring to me and Shelby together now.

I looked at her, then back, and nodded.

“Yeah, why?” Shelby asked, mirroring my own confusion.

“I just think you two should know she’s lying.” Kris whispered.

Shelby gasped dramatically, but I stared straight ahead at the women. Okay, not what I was expecting. It didn’t strike me as shocking as it did Shelby, partially because I didn’t care enough to believe it from her?

“We’ve all heard the same story. I mean, how many times can you lie?” another person asked in awe.

Other voices started to chime in, choruses that merely echoed what the first girl said.

“They even checked the phone records and proved she never got the calls.”

Kris was shaking her head. “Twenty five years she’s been telling that story. She’ll tell anyone who will listen, especially a reporter. It’s honestly so pathetic.”

A pair of footsteps shuffled in the background as they continued to rattle off how crazy Patricia was and I immediately turned to see Patricia who very much heard all of that.

No one even acknowledged Patricia when she entered the room— they just stared and went back to sipping their wine and my blood began to boil over. This all just felt utterly cruel. My skin started to itch at the layer of discomfort that built up.

But in my slimy state, the woman who answered the door for them earlier picked up a camera.

“Do one of you mind actually grabbing a picture of all of us?”

I couldn’t move for a moment, staring at all of them as they quickly glossed over everything that just occurred. Now they had the audacity to ask a favor of Patricia or her? I had my fair share of immature and petty friends back in the city, and trust me, there were plenty of them. But this felt almost too much in the face of just being plain old mean.

I took the camera from Patricia’s hand the second she gladly agreed to take the photo.

“How old are all of you? Just out of journalistic curiosity.” I asked, a smile plastered on my face.

They looked slightly confused but answers slowly trickled in: 38, 42, 43, 39…

“Why?” Kris asked, her face scrunching up in a scowl.

My heart started racing as I faced the women who all shared that same expression towards me. I glanced down at the camera and put it back on the table.

“I just had to make sure we weren’t all in high school. Almost fooled me there for a second.” I answered, having to laugh to mask the nerves that rattled my tone. “Come on, Patricia.”

Their jaws all dropped, scoffing in harmony but even as she stood frozen in place, I picked up the bottles we brought and managed to grab her wrist too as we went straight through the crowd that formed for the photo.

“Oh my god.” Patricia said to herself as we got back on the street. “Oh my god.”

I shared that sentiment, questioning how much of a fool I may have just made myself look.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying not to laugh. I didn’t even find it funny, I was actually a little mortified.

“That was awesome!” she cackled. “I wish I got a picture of their faces!”

That earned a laugh and I finally stopped trying to hold it in. Whatever I was worried about seemed to fade with the light that returned to Patricia’s face. It was like looking in a mirror at a girl who had sacrificed so much of herself to be apart of a group of friends. No one deserved to feel that.

I then handed her the bottle of red she didn’t even get to open up.

“Patricia, they are terrible people!” I couldn’t help but cry out as the absurdity of the whole situation caught up to me. “I’m sorry for what you overheard and it’s none of my business, but I couldn’t partake in that any longer.”

She let out a heavy sigh, looking down at the ground as we walked. “They’re not that terrible, I guess, they invite me to things which is nice–”

“But only if they can talk bad behind your back and turn around and ask you to take a photo?” I interjected.

Patricia glanced up at me with half a frown that turned into a smile. “Thank you.” she mumbled.

“I will take the credit for being crazy off your shoulders for one night. Blame it on the crazy girl from the city.” I encouraged, my wine settling in my blood a little heavier now.

We found things to laugh at again all the way back to her home. This time, we sat on her front steps as the night brought the perfect, comfortable temperature to sit outside and drink more wine in. It wasn’t my business to know what was true or false about Patricia’s story because since we met, I never got the impression I was being lied to about anything else. All I knew was that we liked books and also liked Fleetwood Mac when it played on the small radio she brought outside.

I didn’t have many girl friends back in the city, so if I could have one on this island, I wouldn’t fight it.

I would, however, fight against any further communication from the other women she was friends with if I could help it.

The following morning, I found myself to be the first customer of the Driftwood Cafe and probably the first person to crack open their espresso machine after helping the barista figure it out.

“I still have to charge you, you know.” the man spoke flatly as I pulled my own double espresso.

“That’s okay.”

I had less trouble getting a plain cup of coffee for the mayor who would arrive soon. In the meantime, I sat by the large window he found me through yesterday. I pulled back the brown checkered curtains to get a good view of the early morning sun. The main street was mostly empty this early and I could just see the harbor through a few of the narrow roads if I looked close enough. Being awake before the morning crowd was an accomplishment hard fought for back in the city but here, it felt natural—as natural as the way I woke in the inn and found myself here.

All roads led to the ease this place instilled in me.

Bells tolled and birds barely called as I sifted through some emails on my laptop. I shouldn’t be working, but alas.

I’m glad Tom invested in better wifi to make it easier on me.

Speaking of, the second customer of the day entered wearing a very on point plaid shirt underneath his navy blue shell jacket, the lines of his cheek pointed from his smile.

“Did you already get me a coffee?” he asked, glancing between me and the man behind the counter.

“I did.” I answered, shutting my laptop.

“She harassed me.” the man behind the counter tacked on.

I paid him no mind as I stared sweetly at Tom. “I did no such thing.”

Tom chuckled as he took a seat, peering at his own cup and then mine, noticing the stark difference in creamer but refraining from making a comment about it. I could tell by the squint in his eyes he wanted to though.

“How was your night with Patricia?”

My brows raised and I sat a little straighter.

“Well, her friends are terrible to her so we ended up drinking wine on her steps and I had a pretty headache to show for it this morning.”

Tom could barely take his next sip of coffee without showing his surprise.

“Uh, oh.” was all he could say.

“Uh, oh, indeed.” I grinned. “ I may have made a few enemies but, Tom, they were so mean to her! It felt like the worst people you knew from high school all in one friend group.”

Part of his unchanged expression gave me the idea that this was not news, half his lip dipping as he shrugged.

“That is unfortunately true,” he sighed. “Patricia never seemed to mention it before or be too bothered by it, so I never asked.” he quietly added with a tinge of guilt.

“I don’t think she would have ever told me either.” I said, swirling my spoon in my coffee out of habit. “But they tried to talk bad about her to me while she was in the bathroom and I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer.” I said, the passion riling me up with the aid of my espresso.

Tom, who looked barely awake yet, leaned back in his chair.

“Did you pull the city girl out on them?” he asked, brows raised.

“Not fully.” I answered modestly.

He chuckled, relaxing in his seat again. “I-I think Patricia needs a friend like you and I think she’s very happy you’re here. Not as happy as I am, but still.”

The subtle comment almost missed my ears, but my lips slightly parted as I tried to rewind them in my head.

“You should be happy. I even wrote down the menu on the chalkboard after I got your coffee.”

Tom leaned back to look behind him, his face puzzled at how I’ve accomplished so much already.

“Do you want a job? We’re hiring.”

I slid my laptop back into my bag so I’d have more room on the table.

“I am a competitive girl to afford, Loftis.” I jokingly replied. “How was your night after you dropped me off?”

Tom took a deep breath, looking pleasantly out the window. I could almost see the way he longed for these streets to fill today.

“It was great. The Sox won. My son inevitably snuck out later that night, but we had a great time.”

I slowly nodded along, still unsure of how to answer when it came to his son when I still had a dozen questions surrounding it. He never talked about the mother of his child—not even once.

“I think the Sox winning alone solidifies a good night for once since it’s so rare.” I said, my expression still hindered from my previous thoughts.

“It does.” he nodded, fingers tapping along his mug of coffee.

I was afraid to admit I almost wanted more coffee but I’m sure I’d find my way back later. The day looked too beautiful to pass for a nap. But as I looked back at Tom from where I gazed out the window, he was already staring at me, blue eyes tilted and lost in something too deep for me to even comprehend on the receiving end of it.

My face immediately felt warm, smile aching my cheeks.

“What is it?” I asked.

He didn’t break away. “I just can’t believe you’re here.”

I slowly moved my hand from where it wrapped around my mug, letting the edge of my fingers brush over where his hand rested on the table. The touch alone made me forget I was on solid ground for a moment. His fingers fanned ever so slightly enough so that I could let mine link with his.

“This time last week you probably would have called me while I was walking to work.”

“And I couldn’t hear a damn thing.” he chuckled.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little too, our fingers locking together a little tighter now. It felt foreign, mostly to him by the way he studied it so, but to me as well since it’s been so long since I could do something so small yet so intimate.

But just as we were finding a comfortable pulse to sit at, sirens started echoing from the distance. My head immediately turned towards the window and in mere seconds I saw the sheriff's car speeding down the small street the coffee place sat on. I looked back at Tom who was frowning slightly.

“Better go get ‘em, mayor.”

Part of him wanted to laugh, even as he already looked visibly irritated with the interruption.

“I’m serious,” Tom said, pushing off the table. “You can have any job you want here like being the Sheriffs back up.”

But before he could fully pull away, I leaned forward, fully locking our fingers together.

“And I am serious when I say I don’t think anyone can do that better than you. ”

My grin cracked through and his shoulders eased up only a hair's length, but it was enough for me to part with.

“Meet me at the Salty Whale this afternoon?” Tom asked.

“I feel so spoiled already.” I beamed. “I’ll see you there. Be careful.”

The words flowed out like an instinct, one that I knew would follow him out the door as my eyes did. What could anyone “be careful” about on this island?

The rest of the morning was uneventful. By the time I left the coffee shop, I decided to do a little shopping around the boutiques since my luggage consisted of whatever pieces of summer clothes I could scrounge up. I found an adorable sweater, one to throw over the shorts I wore, and a few other things to carry along the way.

I left one of the shops just in time to see the same Sheriff driving by, the faint calls of an older man howling out the back…something about “I am not a hick”? Hopefully that was a minor problem Tom had to deal with, but I guess I’d hear about it later.

When I got back to the inn and rechecked my emails from this morning, I noticed a new one popped up for an event called Sunset Cocktails from Patricia to be held this weekend after the inaugural swim.

I giddily rsvp’d to it, and left a note saying I would love to help.

A brief rain shower took over the island for a small window of time, and I threw on my rain boots (that Tom reminded me I should pack this time around) to head over to the Salty Whale.

I hid under the awning as his car pulled up to the restaurant and he nearly jumped out.

“You packed rain boots but not a rain coat?” Tom cried out as he jogged over to me to get out of the rain.

He couldn’t sound or even look disappointed if he tried, his face washed over with an incredulous affection. Behind him, the rain started to slow to a stop.

“No, I brought both.”

Tom shook his head at me and guided me inside the restaurant. It wasn’t quite as packed yet, but certainly more tables were filled than from the last time I was here. More tables meant more people turned to look at Tom as I walked behind him though, and I started to sense there was something more bitter behind their expressions towards their mayor.

“Can I ask how things went earlier?” I cautiously asked.

Tom glanced down at me, a smirk briefly breaking through his fatigued look.

“Can I tell you over take out food in my kitchen instead?”

I refrained, and nodded in approval. My suspicion remained underlying though. Even the thought of being in his home for the first time didn’t change the fact that everyone was looking at him with daggers in their eyes.

We moved over towards the bar where Tom handed me a menu to pick something to go, his order already something ingrained in years of routine coming here. After I put mine in, a figure came up to take the space on the opposite side of Tom–a pastor?

“Well, I heard you had quite a day.” was the first thing he said.

I leaned over the counter slightly to get a good look. If that’s how someone was greeting Tom then it really must have been a morning.

“You heard?” Tom replied sarcastically, before glancing down at me. “Reverend Bryce, this is…” he introduced me.

He reached over the bar to shake my hand and I smiled politely.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Reverend Bryce smiled warmly. He still seemed to have the same roughed edges as Tom, a years long friendship clearly palpable between them as he turned back to him. “Is this the famous reporter I’ve heard so much about?”

“Oh, I’m afraid to know what you’ve heard about me.” I chuckled nervously, glancing up at Tom.

“Enough to know Tom worked his ass off to get you to come out here. But clearly not as hard to get you to come back?” he raised a brow

They weren’t the first words I expected to hear from a reverend, my eyes finding Tom with my initial awe. His head had dipped, laughing expectantly like this was a normal exchange.

“But after everything else I’ve done,” Tom continued, more pointed to the reverend, “and not one ounce of gratitude from anyone, and that fucking guy…” he mumbled under his breath.

I quietly and sympathetically listened, as it was hard to do anything but.

“Wyck has not had the easiest go of it.” the Reverend tried to rationalize.

I have heard that name over our numerous phone calls but he usually gets too frustrated to even continue the conversation about it much longer. Tom leaned more forward as if to shield me somehow. “So, he just gets to do whatever the hell he wants and people just love him?”

“Well, you know people around here fear change…and when the lord gathers a herd, he calls a shepard.”

Silence fell across the space between them and I had glanced over at the Reverend as Tom straightened.

“Oh, you’re just phoning it in now.” Tom laughed, earning one from the Reverend too.

“Right,” he said, going serious again. “James 4:6 though; blah, blah, blah, Bible, Bible, you know…”

I laughed too, leaning on my palm against the bartop at the pair of them. I could see why they made such good friends.

“Do you two want to come by for a drink?” the Reverend asked. “If I’m not interfering on plans with you and the lady.” he said, politely nodding his head at me.

“I think we’re picking up and heading out. Evan is out with friends so we’re going to probably have one peaceful evening before the crowds come in.”

“Okay, next time. It was nice to meet you and finally put a name to the face of the girl who put Widows Bay on the map.” the Reverend said, taking my hand again before leaving the bar.

“Oh, hey,” Tom quickly said, catching him before he got too far. I turned on the barstool to face Tom and hear the conversation. “You should probably keep the doors locked at night.” Did he think I was going to crawl into the church in the middle of the night?

“Pardon?” the Reverend asked, equally as confused as I was.

“The bell,” Tom answered. “I mean, let’s be honest, it probably was Evan and I will talk to him. But we both know that won’t do any good.”

But the Reverend still didn’t seem to be registering what Tom was saying. “The bell–the church bell?”

“Yeah. Woke up Rosemary and Patricia too.”

“Not to further add evidence against your son, but I did hear that too.” I chimed in. “Would be lovely to hear during the day though.”

The Reverend stilled to a point where it was hard to miss, deepening into something unrecognizable. At first, I thought maybe he couldn’t hear Tom but it quickly seemed more than that.

“Tom, that’s impossible.” he shook his head.

My brows furrowed, but Tom shook his head too. “Oh, you haven’t met my son.”

The Reverend’s brows furrowed slightly, his gaze pulling away into a thought neither of us could infer upon. I looked at Tom, eager to know if he noticed it too.

“You okay?” he asked.

His face seemed to snap back into place, the stillness gone and his thoughts far away.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Have a lovely night you two.”

The way he turned around made it all the more unsettling and Tom met me with the same level of concern. Tom didn’t say anything else though as he gently grabbed my hand and guided me out of the restaurant.

“Dumb hick.” said a bald man as we passed by him.

I abruptly stopped on the stairs, quick to turn around. I wasn’t even sure what I heard but nothing good came of a man muttering something under his breath if I was walking by.

But Tom seemed to know where that blow was directed, face flooded with dread as he turned back around too, leaving me on the stairs as he went down to the table where a few of the locals sat.

“I didn’t mean that.” Tom said sincerely. “I really didn’t.”

Then it dawned on me that that’s what the drunk man in the sheriff's car was yelling about earlier.

“And I know you’re all loyal to Wyck, um, but that doesn’t make him right.” Tom winced, as if he was sharing a groundbreaking revelation. “We have a new chapter now, and there is nothing wrong with that inn.” he pointed.

The man at the table against the wall spoke up first. “A lot of bad things have gone down there.”

“That’s true,” Tom reluctantly agreed. “But that doesn’t make it haunted. I would never put anyone in danger.”

“Then why don’t you stay there?” the same man at the table suggested.

I was colored impressed by the quick jump to a childlike dare, and I leaned my hip against the wooden railing as their fears manifested.

“Are you gonna pay for my room, Al?” Tom retorted.

“We’ll all chip in.” the bald man smirked, earning a chorus of agreements.

“Great, I look forward to it.” Tom said, starting to turn back towards me. He reached for my hand again as he took the lead on the stairs.

“Tonight.”

The word sliced through our path and I felt Tom’s hand tense in my palm. His brows set and he sighed heavily, but I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. I suppose I wouldn’t mind sitting this night out again. I was still a little earlier than planned and he seemed like he was dealing with very stubborn townsfolk.

“I’m–I am clearly unable to do this tonight.” Tom said, glancing at me.

A low pit formed in my stomach, and I couldn’t hide the flattery I felt at him sticking up for our plans. But the others had no remorse, and started making chicken sounds like we were in a kindergarten classroom.

I was furious for Tom, still holding his hand as I looked between him trying to find his patience and the locals before him.

“Pay for my room too. I don’t mind a few ghost stories.” I finally blurted out.

But the bald man up front put his hand up. “Miss, you don’t have to get dragged into Tom’s consequences.”

“Well, I am the one who wrote the Times article he’s been working so hard to get you people to believe in, so maybe I could put the not-so-haunted inn in the next one…?” I trailed off, waiting for his name.

Suddenly, all the men paled and I couldn’t help but feel a little proud after revealing my identity to them.

The man up front, Ed, sheepishly answered under his breath, his eyes on the table. But I was sure to glance up at Tom, realizing the implications of my addition to this dare.

“That’s if…if it’s okay with you,” I added in a low mumble.

Tom sighed. “Only if you’re really okay with it. Don’t feel like you have to do it just because of me.”

“It’s a deal then.” Ed beamed, picking up on Tom’s subtle agreement. “But you have to stay in the Captains Suite.”

“The what?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, lost his mind. Got his family with an axe.” he explained. “She don’t have to stay there, but you do.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Right, so we named a suite after him. Got it. Anything else?”

“The Ungrateful Hortence Fitzgerald.” another man from a table further back announced.

“Was she the lady who fell out of a window?” Tom asked.

I discreetly pulled my notebook out from my bag and started jotting all the different tales and ghouls down; we say Ugly Hortence three times (despite Tom’s mention of how misogynistic this all sounded), the New Years Eve disaster of 1962 with John Reynold’s head in the dumbwaiter, clown killer of 1951, go to the back of the crawlspace in the basement–courtesy of Rosemary who had been there the whole time–

“He’s not gonna spend the whole night there.” Ed laughed to the others.

“Kurt could lock him in. Or give her the key if she’s true to her word.”

I tilted my head at Rosemary. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Tom’s lips parted, like he wanted to refuse it all as the demands got more ridiculous.

“I will make sure he does it for the sake of journalistic integrity.” I said, hoping to settle the calamity that was building, especially from him alone.

Tom finally found his words again though as he stepped forward.

“And when I do, all this talk stops, right? You let it go, you let the tourists stay there in peace. Agreed?”

Everyone quickly agreed with no difficulty much to my surprise.

“Thank you,” Tom concluded with a tinge of an attitude.

I quickly waved everyone goodbye. “Thank you!”

Everyone waved back with pleasant smiles, more than they would have shown Tom, honestly, but I was suddenly chasing him out of the restaurant to hop in his passenger seat. The rain stopped, murky gray clouds parting for the sun and the leftover smell of the minerals churned up by the shower seeped through his car windows. It was not therapeutic enough to make him relax though as I could hear the breath going in and out of his nose.

“I, for one, think this is going to be a lot of fun,” I glanced over at him.

The frown lines disappeared as he let out an indeterminate huff that almost sounded like a laugh, and he placed his forehead against his palm, turning away not in time enough for me to catch his grin.

The inn was absolutely gorgeous.

It could be a mansion today, let alone what it looked like in its prime years. Warm lights filled the windows behind soft curtains, sticking out sharply against the late dusk sky where I could still make out the silhouette of the trees that towered behind. Patricia drove Tom and I, saying this place gave her the creeps and then telling us to have fun in the same breath before peeling off.

Maybe I was naive, but nothing about this place seemed scary other than the fact that it was old. Tom remained concerningly stoic though as we approached the front door.

“Oh my god,” I whispered out loud.

Tom walked behind me and even as furious as he was about this whole situation, when I glanced back at him he had something warm in his expression. I felt like I had walked back in time with the wallpaper and light fixtures alone. He was fixated on the painting that hung on the wall by the desk while I started to venture out into what looked like a living room.

“I took down some of the more provocative ones like you asked.”

The voice startled me and I quickly turned around to meet Kurt, the man who owned this place.

“This isn’t provocative?” Tom asked bluntly.

I came back to his side to study the stormy painting, a canvas consumed entirely by waves that left one child overboard. I suppose that was pretty harsh to take in. But then, the innkeeper withdrew an old camcorder from the desk he stood behind and I could already tell Tom was going to be annoyed by it.

“They say it’s the only way they’ll know for sure.”

Before Tom could argue it, I gladly picked up the camcorder. “Not a problem.”

Kurt led us upstairs, the old wallpapers pattern changing. There were so many doors all unanimously white and spaced between newly placed sconces and small paintings. While Tom settled into the Captains Suite, where Kurt kicked his suitcase in because he refused to step inside, I settled in the room directly across.

It was much smaller than Tom’s room, which I guess explained why it was the suite. But it is charming nonetheless.

A soft knock rapped against my door. I was mid-change into softer, more flowy shorts to settle in for the night of checking off boxes, and quickly scurried over to the door.

Tom was behind the door, his pleasantries dropping as he looked down at my bottoms and the fuzzy slippers I had also packed.

“Did I miss the fuzzy slipper memo?” he asked, eyes drifting back up to me.

“You have to understand as a girl who loved her history classes, having a sleepover in supposedly the most haunted part of this island calls for it.”

He sighed and had no qualms otherwise, so I picked up the camera and excitedly hurried downstairs like it was christmas.

“Just please don’t summon any ghosts. You might be the first person who’s ever been this excited to be here.”

I laughed on my way down the stairs and followed him into the living room I found when we first arrived. The lights flickered on, slightly staggered from old wiring, to create a warmly lit atmosphere. I ogled over the furniture while Tom headed to the “honor” bar. My fingertips grazed the restored wood, even the lampshade that looked to be from the thirties.

I turned at the sound of a cabinet door creaking open, nearly leaping across the room to see what he found.

“God, these must be so old…” he said in awe, both of us staring at the dozens of board games and books that filled the shelves.

He pulled “Daddy’s Home” from the shelf and I started to giggle at the print on the front of a women serving up breakfast for her family.

“How the hell do you even make that board game?” I asked, echoing his own shock.

“Kurt really needs to get rid of that.” Tom sighed.

I then found a box that was small, almost the size of a book, and all it said was: Teeth.

My brows narrowed as I reached for it. Tom leaned over my shoulder and when I opened it, there were only heavy duty pliers. The box felt heavier in my hands now, something twisting deep down that didn’t feel right. Maybe it was my fear of dentists.

“And that,” Tom grimaced.

I brushed off that feeling, removing the pliers to point at him. “You better watch out tonight.”

He snickered as he backed away. “You’re almost too excited about all of this.”

I put the box away as he sifted through a deck of black and white cards.

“And you almost sound like you believe some of these tall tales, which was exactly what you called them when we first met.”

The cards read: not yet, not yet, not yet and then…run.

That feeling returned and this time, I could almost feel it radiating from Tom too. I couldn’t chalk this up to being scared of the dentists but I brushed it off all the same.

“What do you want to drink?” Tom asked, dodging the question as he shuffled over to the honor bar.

I found myself going to a bookshelf where the spines of some of these books had to be older than me.

“Surprise me. You know I have a sweet tooth.”

As I glanced over my shoulder, I caught Tom glancing back too, and quickly resumed my browsing of the books with my lips pulled taught.

“Yeah, I might have to use those pliers on you instead if you keep that up.”

A shudder ran down my spine at the thought. “That would be more terrifying than seeing a ghost.”

I heard the clinking of bottles and pouring of liquid as I picked out a book to read; something about the witch trials that made their way to this island. I don’t think I would broadcast that too loudly to Tom. But as I went to get settled in the chair, a voice came from above: Fill out the form.

Kurt.

I looked at Tom wide eyed, the drinks in his hands shaking from when he must have jumped too.

Slowly, he turned and I followed his gaze to the camera in the corner of the room. I overheard Kurt say he doesn’t stay here but I wouldn’t imagine that he would have cameras installed. Taking a deep breath to ease my nerves, I pulled my legs up to my chest in the small armchair with the book in my lap.

Tom handed me my drink, something that looked like dark liquor with not much to dilute it.

“I’m scared,” I chuckled, watching as he took a seat on the small sofa across from me.

Tom smirked, raising his glass. “It’s rum. That’s sort of sweet.”

I brought my nose to the glass, bracing myself as I took a small sip. It wasn’t terrible, but it made my esophagus feel like fire through and through. He watched as I swallowed it down, and started laughing the moment I couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Thank you.” I said through a scratch in the back of my throat.

I resumed sifting through the pages, his gaze on me still and just as hot as the liquor I swallowed down. The shorts I wore slid up my thigh in my crouched position, and Tom traced every inch of my legs, down to the slightest shadow where my shorts sunk to. I paid no mind to it, catching as he readjusted in his seat from over the pages I was immersed in.

“So, what exactly happened earlier with, uh…Wyck?” I asked, eyes flickering up to him.

Tom straightened and cleared his throat, almost as if he had been caught red handed.

“Nothing,” he tsked. “He was trying to board up the front door of the inn and anyone from a mile away could see he was, well, he was in the bottle all morning and,” Tom paused, eyes drifting the floor as the events played in his head. “He kept saying these things about me and the island and I shouldn’t have said it but I don’t even care anymore–I called him a dumb hick.”

I gasped, covering my mouth, but it was all for play.

“Tom, that’s not very nice.”

A silly grin replaced his distress as he sunk back into the sofa.

“Genuinely, it was not nice but I understand he hasn’t been happy about the tourism for a while. I can see why it got under your skin.”

Tom’s head sunk back over the armrest. “Being called a coward and being to blame for everything bad that happens here I think warrants one jab.”

I tilted my head with a sympathetic smile as I looked at him. “One jab that has a very grand consequence.”

As we settled into a comfortable silence, I still couldn’t help but think about him being called a coward. I didn’t know much outside of maybe a collective handful of days we’ve now spent together in addition to a few phone calls, but like Patricia, I couldn’t see those things.

“I don’t think you’re a coward.”

Tom had still been staring up at the ceiling with his head craned back over the sofa.

“I don’t know. Maybe he has a point.”

It made me sad to hear the submission to the insults from him. I couldn’t even put into words that would make sense as to why that simply wasn’t true. He had the guts to chase after me and get me back here, which I think was the opposite of cowardly.

“I think you have done so much for this town in the short amount of time I’ve known you, and that they are lucky to have you as mayor. They just can’t see it yet and that isn’t your fault.”

Tom’s head finally lifted, looking partially shocked and partially unable to accept my words just yet.

“You’ll only be deemed a coward if we don’t hit this checklist soon.”

I put the book down and finished off my glass, crossing the short distance to where he sat so I could grab his hands and get him up from the sofa. He hardly fought getting up and he suddenly towered me, my hands still in his.

“Thank you for the reminder.” Tom said.

I finally let go so I could grab the camcorder and my notebook, and we first began with the floor Miss Hortence fell out the window on.

“Alright, say it three times.” I said, pointing the camera to Tom.

He rolled his eyes and proceeded with the challenge, the name ringing out through the long hallway three times…and nothing happened when he looked in his reflection of the window.

We then went to the dumbwaiter in which I volunteered to sit in it in the dark since I would fit in it a little easier than he would. Tom took my hand to help me out, asking if I saw anything to which I promptly smiled into the camera and said nope.

Next was the closet where a man allegedly hung himself, hence the name “Dead Man Closet”.

Tom stayed in there for five seconds and I stayed outside, holding the camera towards the door so that the audio could pick up him counting.

“And, he did it!” I quietly cheered.

The doorhandle jiggled, but the door didn’t open.

“Tom, you can come out now!” I called.

The doorhandle was tried and tried again, and I’m sure I heard a profanity or two slip out from the other side. My blood chilled the moment he shoved his shoulder against the door. But by the second budge, he made it out and that chill disappeared.

We took a drink break after that one.

Finally, the crawlspace awaited them.

I followed Tom down to the basement, the sharp scent of old pipes rusted over and something earthy striking my nose on the way down. There was barely any light but the camcorder and the flashlight he grabbed, giving way to nothing but old furniture stored in dusty piles and then one small hole in the wall that was the crawlspace.

“Yeah, not a chance.” Tom said, turning around without wasting another second.

“Tom!” I chased, turning the camcorder off. “What about the list?”

He glanced back at me, shutting the door behind me. “I will go down there, maybe, in the morning. But I am not getting attacked by a racoon or whatever else grows under there.”

Truthfully, I couldn’t blame him nor even try to convince him because I too had a bad feeling about it.

There wasn’t much else to do then and it was almost the middle of the night already. We headed straight towards the stairs towards our rooms. I was tired but part of me didn’t want our night to end just yet. It was only my second day here so I guess I should be more patient with my time.

“I think sleep will be good for you after today.” I said as I followed him down the hall.

Tom sighed, nodding in agreement. “I think so too.”

We reached our doors and the contempt I held for going to bed spiraled, digging into my core. It came in waves the more I stared up at him. My mind was in a battle on whether or not I should try to jump on the feeling or let it go, but Tom didn’t seem to have any intention of making any more bold moves today.

Even as my heart started to race under his gaze, I knew I’d have to let it settle on its own.

“Well, goodnight.” I forced.

Tom’s eyes flickered down and then up, his hand loosely on the doorhandle.

“Goodnight.” Tom said curtly. “Thanks for, uh, doing this with me.”

“I wouldn’t be happier anywhere else.” I admitted truthfully.

My words flowed out without even understanding the implications behind it. I said it like I’ve said it a hundred times before, as if I was always meant to be here.

But as my mind silently pleaded for him not to turn around and not to open that door, I found myself already doing the same.

Mostly to save myself, honestly. I couldn’t bring myself that embarrassment when I only just got here.

I pressed my back against the door as soon as I closed it. Even as I saved myself from embarrassment, it was replaced with something else entirely that pulled my weight down.

The lack of air conditioning started to get to me as the heat spread not only across my face but deep across my center too. I sighed heavily, trying to get my bearings and find something remotely cool against my back. I couldn’t ignore my own wanting; not after the subtlest of touches over the past two days that would light my skin on fire every time.

Suddenly, his door creaked open just out of earshot and I stilled, honing in on the footsteps neared my door.

I straightened and turned, opening my own door embarrassingly fast.

Tom stood there, lips parted as foolishly as mine with no words able to come out.

He ditched his flannel, only in a gray t-shirt and his jeans. Nothing but the faint sound of electricity trying to push through these old walls could be heard, but it could be felt in the space at the threshold of my door.

“I…” Tom began, held hanging low like he was guilty of unimaginable things. “I really don’t want you to think I’m a coward.”

The waves returned, lulling deep below in a way that almost made me forget how to breathe. I stepped closer, almost as an invitation in and of itself. Tom did too and suddenly my neck was craned back to look up at his sweet blue eyes.

All in one fluid motion, his hands lifted from his sides to cup my face, fingertips brushing the nape of my neck and I let the pull bring me in, eyes drifting closed as his lips came down on mine.

I sharply inhaled through my nose, letting all the air escape me. The world could have it all, every drop from my lungs for all I cared.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, his hands leaving my face and leaving a trail that was barely a whisper of a touch down my shoulder blades until his hands firmly pressed into my back. His fingers splayed, pushing into my skin, making my back arch against him even more.

My lips moved, feverishly finding a motion against his under the threshold of the door. All the contempt I held for this silly door was gone.

When we pulled away for air, our lips hovered inches centimeters apart while everything else remained glued together. I stared up at him, overwhelmed by that same feeling that could only be described by the first time I woke up here to that red sunrise; making me feel so light inside I could be whisked away by a single breeze.

This time, I stood on my firm on my toes to push my already sore lips back against his, using my arms I anchored around his neck.

While one hand kept the small of my back sturdy, the other reached further up the nape of my neck, fingers sliding through my hair in a way that made me sharply inhale. I found his lips again with a fervent urge to deepen it, tongue trailing across his bottom one.

As they parted, specs of distant colors flourished behind my eyes as his tongue crossed over mine, almost forgetting I could breathe.

But I would sooner collapse than break away.

My arms loosened around his neck, hand sliding back down to his jaw where my thumb grazed over his adams apple. His arm tightened around me to close any gap, only making every touch grow rougher around the edges. But that’s when the swell of it all became just enough to make my heart stop.

I was gasping for air by the time we pulled apart again.

“I don’t have the stamina for this anymore.” was all he could say, a weak laugh escaping him.

A giggle so relaxed floated from me, head dipping on his chest. “You’re telling me. My back already hurts.”

I swore I was becoming more delirious even though the moment had passed.

Tom’s laugh reverberated through my own soul.

“I don’t think you’re a coward.” I whispered to him, hand reaching up to the dark curls atop his head.

The corner of his lips pulled as he shook his head. “I felt like such an idiot shutting that door.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I can’t defend that part. But you made up for it.”

My mind was in a daze, unable to register anything but the rhythmic breathing I could feel through my hand on his chest and the way he looked down at me.

“Well, I guess I should get back to Captain’s Suite or else my deal is really off.” Tom mocked.

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that is unfortunately the one thing you can’t get out of.”

Tom didn’t pull apart from me so abruptly though– in fact, he almost struggled to do so. Maybe it was me who still held on, pressed against him like I’d fall without him holding me up. But I stood on my toes to press one last kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening…and coming back out of your room.”

“Thank you for coming back to this island at all.” Tom said with a wave of relief.

The moment his touch was gone my skin was cold in all the places his hands explored. I turned away from the door finally, my face sore from the inescapable grin that screwed into my face.

I couldn’t even move for a minute as the circulation resorted itself to my head.

As I got ready for bed, I flipped the small TV on, reminiscent of one my grandparents used to have.

On it played a strange welcoming video, where an older man stood on a coastal part of the island and gave a montage about the place. It wasn’t long before I turned it back off and tucked myself in.

That night, my dreams in which the moon watched over my shoulder would feel much sweeter.

~

My dreams of Widows Bay were always by the lighthouse, when the moonrise was in full swing while the sun set such dramatic fires on the opposite end of the sky. In any variation it was always warm, peaceful, and ending with the rush of waves or Tom looking up at me from the bottom of the path. Even if just for a few minutes, it felt like it could erase an entire restless night when my mind was brought back here.

Tonight was different.

Skinny pine trees towered me, surrounding the rocky shore of the lake. They stretched into a sky that I couldn’t see. It almost felt impossible to exist, like it was a space dropped on the map–but it was still Widows Bay. I didn’t know how or why I knew that, but something about the very air I breathed confirmed what my soul knew to be true.

I looked down at myself, barefoot on the rough sand, my footsteps moving along pebbles and shells.

I was walking towards where the shoreline wrapped around the trees, disappearing into a plane that felt ominously nonexistent.

I moved with haste per the direction of the alarms in my head, despite the cold chill of fears hand that held onto my spine telling me to turn around; it told me that nothing was there, nothing was around those trees and the absence of life is what made it so terrifying.

My hands suddenly felt full, and I looked down to see I was holding the deck of cards.

Something deep in my consciousness, or maybe the other way around, questioned the possibility of having left the inn; that I was in my pajamas and that I was vulnerable.

But it was gone when I looked at the words on the cards. They were blurry at first, despite holding them close to my face.

Not yet.

My legs grew heavy with the sand but I kept moving, further away or towards the danger? I couldn’t tell.

Not yet.

I felt like I was sinking now.

Not yet.

Run

I looked up and my mind tilted on itself from the raw, bone chilling fear. I couldn’t scream, let alone gasp. I froze.

My vision was taken over by the impossibly tall figure composed entirely of shadows; its arms and legs disproportionately long and gnarled at the blurry edges of my vision. I finally gasped, but I choked on the air I forgot how to breathe and I was left frozen to do nothing but stare horrified at the monster before me.

Its animalistic growls clicked and groaned through the earth beneath my feet. I let out another choked sound as I writhed against the impossible weight that kept me stuck in the shore. A low reverberating sound that radiated off its intangible form and made my ears ache, a sound that didn’t belong to the world as I knew it. But I knew one thing in this moment: it felt like it meant death.

It grew louder and louder and finally, a scream tore through me.

I couldn’t hear my own scream, but the guttural horror in my cry that I didn’t even think was possible for me to express was still no match for the buzzing that consumed my senses. It drowned me out, like my existence was already slipping away on this rocky shore.

The darkness grew and as did the frequency, leaving me cold and short for air–

I woke in my bed with a gasp, all the weight leaving me as I sprung forward.

There was air and then nothing for a split second before I hit the floor of my room with a thud that barely fazed me. I stumbled upwards as I ran to the lightswitch. But as I turned back around to face the heap of sheets I kicked off the bed, the staticky glow of the TV caught my attention.

My pulse threaded through my cold and sweaty body and it made me sick–but not as sick as what was on the TV screen. I slowly walked towards it, almost afraid it would pull me back in, seeing the same landscape I had just escaped from.

It was the welcome video from earlier.

“Jesus Christ," I groaned loudly, hitting the off switch with a hard enough impact I almost knocked the TV off the stand.

I sat at the edge of my bed, left in silence but the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. Sweat accumulated at my temples and I quickly wiped it away, the remnants of that fear still nipping away at me.

In the silence though, music from downstairs started to seep through the walls. I stilled, craning my head to listen. It was reminiscent of a doowop era with a certain beat that caught my attention.

The ill feelings of my nightmare started to fizzle away as I neared the door, slowly opening it to see the hallway suddenly more vibrant than it was before. The wallpaper seemed brighter, the lights warmer in exchange for the LED.

I turned my head towards the stairs as the music grew louder, but footsteps brought my eyes the other way.

Two women with large heaps of hair styled atop their heads and bright colored shift dresses came hurrying by with looks of pure excitement, their big boots making it difficult for them to move fast.

I watched them run by like I was in a movie, hidden behind the camera, but when they stopped my heart skipped a beat. I wasn’t supposed to be here.

As they slowly turned, I thought I must have been in another dream, but then they looked directly at me and I was left staring dumbfounded with my jaw hanging, trying to formulate a sound.

“Well, hun, you can’t come to the party like that.” the one girl said sweetly.

“Me?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

When I turned back around though, the girls linked arms with me and the alarm bells somewhere deep in my mind started to ring.

Don’t let them take you.

The fog of this dreamlike world was thick though, muffling any sense of ration I had left. As they pulled me along though, my ankles felt hardly connected to my body and I looked down to follow the feel of leather around my calves to find a pair of white gogo boots replacing my slippers.

“What the…”

My gaze drifted up my body, a lime green dress short enough for my upper thighs to catch a draft now hanging on me.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t–

The music grew louder as we came down the stairs but with it, a crowd that filled the once empty inn could be heard laughing and chatting above the music too. I was left utterly confused, nothing short of too stunned to question a single thing and only absorb the excitement of the room. The further I got into this facade the less I felt the urge to wonder, my mind becoming as light as the girls who pulled me along.

Just as we came down to the lobby, a brass bordered mirror waited on my left. I turned to see my reflection.

My eyes widened at the person who stared back; hair pulled in an updo I never would have had the dexterity for on my own and even more shocking, an abyss of shadows in the shape of a human behind me, staring with pinpoint eyes that were bright as mini flashlights.

A gasp escaped my parted lips, but when I was pulled back around, it was entirely different.

A crowd of men and women danced to the record player in the main drawing room. They wore suits and dresses of wild patterns and colors I haven’t seen since I looked in my grandmother's photo bin. They weren’t shadows with beady white eyes. One thing they had in common though was the silly hats and noisemakers that hinted at one thing and one thing only: it was New Years Eve.

“Hey, you’re awake!” a young man said.

My head turned on a swivel, finding the boy smiling disproportionately wide as he passed me. The girls loosened their grips on my arm and the ground felt less stable as I navigated the party.

In the back of mind the alarm bells still rung, low and drowned out by The Twist.

Everyone looked at me with wide grins, as if they had been expecting me all along. I was pulled around, somehow not tripping over my boots, and even the finest men I couldn’t conjure up myself asked for a dance. I went along with it though, the alarm bells silencing and the music in my ears taking over completely.

Meanwhile, Tom Loftis discovered a new friend as well. Certainly nothing compared to a new years even party, but one man who had a welcoming smile that screamed board game partner.

In the empty drawing room in the middle of the night, Tom had himself another drink with the other stranger who was spending the night in this inn. They talked, laughed, and the man asked a lot about the girl who was with him tonight. Tom didn’t have much to say though, mind still fuzzy from the kiss they shared. He talked fondly of how she was able to help him get through this night, a newfound comfort in the bullshit this town brought on him.

The stranger thought it was a nice sentiment.

“Is…that her?” he suddenly asked, an unsure look pointed towards the hallway that ran alongside the room.

Tom nearly spat out his drink, doing a double take only to see her walking slowly by, uncannily stoic as she glided past.

He called out her name, springing up from his seat when she didn’t hear him.

When he caught up to her, he stood firmly in front of her, only to realize that her eyes were shut and she walked into him without so much as a flinch.

“Hey, hey…” Tom said, grabbing her shoulders.

But she pushed on anyway.

In my dream of sparklers and silver streamers, I found myself dancing with a man who introduced himself as John Reynolds. It sounded so familiar but the man insisted he had never seen me before. He mentioned he was glad he did though. I danced, becoming lighter with every step.

The girls from earlier found me again and began counting down from sixty, pulling me away from the man I thought I was having a wonderful time with.

Even as the countdown amped up, numbers circling my head, I still kept looking around for him because something was telling me I couldn’t let him get too far away.

Ten, nine, eight…

I weaved through the crowd, champagne spilling over my shoulders as I bumped into strangers, who looked by me with beady white pupils in a shadowy abyss where their eyes once stood. I saw it. I felt it. But I kept my eyes straight forward, refusing to look back as the feeling of their gaze already crawled up my spine, like they were waiting for the right moment to pounce on their prey.

Seven, six, five, four…

I caught the back of his head, going towards the kitchen.

Something told me to tell him to stop.

Three, two, one… Happy new year!

The crowd swarmed me as cheers erupted, firecrackers erupting what felt like right next to my ear. Maybe it was the champagne bottles popping.

Maybe it was something else crackling beneath the floors that almost shook me.

But I finally broke through into the kitchen, only for the celebration to be severed by a shrill scream and champagne glass hitting the floor.

I wasn’t sure if it was my own or someone else's, but the man I felt compelled to warn was now on the floor of the kitchen, blood pooling around his body. I couldn’t even make out the white tiled floors anymore, frozen to my place as the blood reached my boots. I knew something was missing but I couldn’t bring myself to look at where the blood came from.

My chest started to rise and fall, bracing myself for what my eyes would find.

A lump started to form in my stomach, crawling up to the back of my throat before I even noticed that the man's head was completely severed from his body.

A shake ran down my limbs; down to my fingertips and my knees. The horror of it was nothing compared to the guilt I felt, a burden I never knew was possible to carry. Something told me I needed to warn him but it seemed inevitable at this point.

Outside of this plane I found myself in, Tom cautiously followed me to where my body seemed to be drawn to follow.

But then I stopped before the dumbwaiter and he waited for something else to happen, unsure of whether to turn me back around to go to bed. I simply stared, something terrifying spreading across my face that he couldn’t comprehend. It was when my chest started to rise and fall in sharp, uneven breaths that he became worried.

“Hey, listen to me…” Tom pleaded, hands sitting at my shoulders.

I started to cry.

Stray tears flowed from beneath my closed eyes, and Tom’s face sank with defeat.

He couldn’t comprehend how or why I was standing in front of the dumbwaiter, crying and shaking like a dog stuck in the rain. He wasn’t sure if he felt more unsettled or sad, but both compelled him to gently turn her around and loosely guide her to the stairs.

The man Tom had been talking to disappeared, presumably to bed himself.

Maybe Tom should follow suit.

As we got to the stairs though, Tom didn’t anticipate the need to help her lift her feet and she suddenly went straight forward in a heap of limbs against the first few stairs before the landing.

“Oh, jeez–” Tom stammered. “God dammit,”

More curses flew out from under his breath as he helped her sleeping state upright. It was strange to him that a fall wouldn’t faze her yet she couldn’t walk up the stairs. Sighing, Tom looked down at himself, not feeling entirely secure about the idea; but without much hesitation he crouched slightly to scoop her up.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t strain him in the slightest. The last time he carried anyone was Evan, maybe when he was ten.

But even despite the dozen stairs that made his lungs burn, Tom was honored all the same. Out of all the eerie things that happened tonight from the challenges, to the TV nearly combusting on him, catching her sleepwalking took the cake. Maybe this place was haunted, or maybe he discovered early on in their relationship that she was in fact a sleepwalker.

The stream of thoughts came screeching to a halt. Was this even a relationship yet? He wanted it to be, even if the roadblocks of his inexperience made him feel like he didn’t deserve one. This was the first woman in years he has ever reached out to and…well, she came back. He would be stupid to ignore that.

Finally, his aching legs reached her bedroom door. A ragged breath passed his lips.

“Finally–” but the soft thud of her head hitting the door frame scared him to death. “Oh, fuck,” he winced.

Still, she didn’t budge. Tom was relieved as he was guilty.

When Tom set her down on the bed, he noticed her sheets were tossed all over the place and the TV was still on, playing the same eerie footage of the landscape in which the man in the video disappeared into. Tom turned it off if not for her, but himself, as well. He pulled the covers over her and the terror that riddled her eyes was gradually sinking away.

Tom couldn’t fight his own instinct to push the hair off her face, smiling down at her without even realizing his lips had pulled.

But then, she stirred.

“Happy new year,” she mumbled through her lazily shut lips.

Tom’s face scrunched with confusion, but he shook his head and departed her room.

It must have been almost two in the morning now. But something in his tired and whiskey fused state made him return downstairs with the camcorder in hand.

He was going to get this over with.

The crawlspace remained an eerie, omniscient plane of its own but Tom was ready to take it head on. He set the camera down with him as he crawled through the small squared off space. If he moved fast enough, his nerves would remain stone cold against the shadows that now surrounded him. They were starting to budge though, crawling faster across the Earth and heart rate picking up by the second.

Finally, he reached the back wall with a breath of relief.

“I am in the crawlspace.” Tom said with disdain to the camera.

He could see his salvation through the square exit and the basement light on the other side of it.

But as he lowered the camera, a creaking sound echoed through his exit.

“Hello? William?” Tom called.

Then, the footsteps continued, but it sounded like more than one; and the exit was suddenly covered by the suitpants that belonged to William and then…her legs too? The small fuzzy slippers were undeniably hers, but the two of them now standing at the exit left him confused and his pulse became thready.

“Howdy, neighbor.” said William.

“W-what are you guys doing?” Tom asked with a tinge of uncertainty in his tone.

Tom then helplessly watched as William crouched down, while she still stood beside him.

“Need some help in there?”

“No, no–I’m coming out! Don’t come in!”

Suddenly, her head crouched down at an unexplainable angle to look in as well, the shadow of her hair dangling in.

“Don’t come out, Tom.” she said, voice clear as day belonging to her but with a strangled grasp to it.

But William started to crawl in and Tom yelled again, only to see that the flash of the camcorder revealed not William, but the clown killer instead. He shouted and backed away against the wall to no avail, fear seizing him in preparation to end up like the skeleton beside him.

Just when the clown killers bared teeth came so close enough he could almost feel his hot breath, Tom lurched up in bed.

At the same time, I woke up in another cold sweat with morning light piercing through the curtains I must have left open.

The tops of the treeline waited just outside my window with birds chirping in a nearby nest and yet, I woke with the feeling of being chased. Rubbing my eyes to adjust, they felt strangely puffy as well as a pounding headache on the right side of my head.

Was I crying in my sleep? I don’t know how I could have cried knowing Tom’s sweet kiss was the last thing I remember.

As my senses came back to me, both good and bad, I threw my legs over the bed.

My head felt heavy, and aside from the headache there was a fog that seeped through every crevice, making it difficult to remember the dreams I had. But they were more than dreams; my own soul seemed to understand as such before I could even come to terms with it.

I looked down at my feet. They were sore like I had been running all night.

Then, as I looked down I saw a glimpse of a rocky shore…then a pair of white boots…and blood. Lots of blood. My breathing staggered as I ran my hands across the rest of my body and my hair as it all came back: the welcome footage, the dress, the scene at the dumbwaiter…

Nausea crept up the back of my throat. I had lived a thousand lifetimes worth of distress in my sleep and even my own room didn’t feel safe when I remembered something else.

The clown in the room, luring me downstairs…

I couldn’t let myself relive it any longer. The realization that ghosts lingered in the halls and had come to know me more than I knew myself made my skin feel colder, more exposed than before. Could everything Tom’s been trying to stave off be true?

That reminded me; I sprung on from the bed on the achy balls of my feet, feeling slightly unsteady. I opened the door and jumped at the sight of Tom opening his.

He looked as terrible as I felt.

No words could come out in a tangible enough way to explain what I felt or what I wanted to ask about. All I knew was that his tired blue eyes looked back at me with a knowing despair; last night had been a rough night.

“This place is fucking haunted.” I said to him, point blank in the only way I knew how.

Tom’s shoulders sank.

Every feeling came rushing back at once. He didn’t deny it, nor did he accept it. But I could see it in his eyes he must have been coming to the same realization too. As he leaned against the doorframe with a heavy defeat, I crossed the yard of space between our doors. I looked up at him, trying to find words but nothing could come out.

How do I explain the things I saw, the things I felt? How can anyone feel so close to death in a place meant to be safe?

I wrapped my arms around his center, something that must have caught him off guard by the way he inhaled, but it only took a few seconds for his arms to come around my shoulders.

“Do you always sleepwalk?” Tom asked, my headache lulled by the vibration of his voice through his chest.

I craned my neck to look at him suspiciously. That's what he gathered from all of that?

“I’m only asking because we’re just going to need to have a conversation if we’re gonna–” he awkwardly tapered off.

“I’ve never sleepwalked in my life, Tom.” I said, the concern returning.

Tom sighed, eyes zoning off in the space behind me. He nodded at my words, but still glossed over the loud truth between us; one that I already said once and would not say again.

“Oh, okay.”

alright i know that was super long but also yolo i really wanted to start with them reuniting and ending with this luigis mansion ass inn because ive been dreaming of writing that since this is all started...so i hope it didn't disappoint!

please let me know what you all thought!! forehead kisses to each and everyone of u for being so kind and supportive :)

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