He’s tentative. Searching. Like he’s apologizing for wanting me so badly, but he’s also diving head-first into his need. And my body remembers things my brain spent years trying to forget.”
For the last few months, I have neglected SO MANY indie author obligations, like posting on social media, writing my newsletter, and updating my website. All because I was singularly focused on finishing my newest Sugar Pine Springs installment, IN LOVE WITH YOUR GHOST in time for an October release. I am so happy to say that it’s nearly done. Today, I’m able to share a sneak peek! Read on!
He’s tentative. Searching. Like he’s apologizing for wanting me so badly, but he’s also diving head-first into his need. And my body remembers things my brain spent years trying to forget.
I kiss him back. My hands find the front of his jacket. His arms close around me. I don’t resist. The sanitarium and the town council and all of it just—stops. There’s only this. Him. The way he holds me like I’m something he lost and just now found, and in the last place he’d thought to look.
But then, I remember myself. I pull back.
“Levi. This is a bad idea.”
“Hart—”
“You want to gut this place and then move on. Return to your no-strings relationship with Lana back in New York. Your world is way bigger than mine. You can’t just come in here and take up so much space and then just—” I press my fingers to my mouth. Drop my hand. “It’s a bad idea.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Levi says. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“Great. Don’t play with my emotions.”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Then his head turns sharply. “Did you hear that? From the chapel.”
I did. And I’m already walking.
“Hartley—”
“Someone was wailing.” I pull out my phone, switch on the flashlight, and don’t look back at him. “I’m going to find out who.”
Levi’s hand closes around my wrist, his grip warm and urgent. “Hart, wait. Don’t go in there.”
I shake him off, my pulse hammering against my skin. “If you’re scared, don’t come.”
“I’m not—” He cuts himself off as we step into the chapel.
My flashlight beam cuts through the dark, sweeping over empty pews and dust motes dancing like tiny ghosts. Nothing. No one.
“Whatever that was, it’s gone.” My voice comes out thin. Unconvinced.
“Turn off the light.” Something in his tone makes my breath catch.
“Why?”
“Just turn it off.”
I click it off. The dark swallows us whole.
Levi’s finger brushes my arm as he points toward the pulpit. “There. Do you see it?”
My eyes adjust slowly. And then I do.
It shimmers like crushed diamonds suspended in air—a figure woven from silver glitter and memory. It’s nothing like the hazy blue clouds I’m used to. This is solid. Real.
A woman shaped from light and loss.
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