Page 99 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
Plus, this was exactly what Michelle had warned me about. He was too dependent on me. I wasn't ready to be in a relationship, especially one that felt forced. Logan lived here, and I lived here. What did that mean for my desire not to choose? I needed time and space.
"I need a bath," I said, marching toward the stairs.
"You don't have to decide, Grateful."
I turned back toward him. "No? How about if I decide I want my life back? No ghosts. No demons. No caretakers. That's not going to happen, is it?"
"You're considering being with Rick, aren't you?"
"I'm not having this conversation with you. You're the one who told me I had a choice. It goes both ways, and the only one who can make it is me."
Logan flickered. Whatever was on the stove began bubbling over. I hurried to turn off the burner. Clarity came to me in Michelle's words: How do you know they are what they seem?
I focused my attention on what I could see of Logan's head. "Be honest. What's the real reason you don't want me to become the witch? What would make you want to be a ghost forever?"
By the length of time it took Logan to answer, I knew I was onto something. He blended into the wall, his desire to dodge the inquiry bleeding the energy out of him. But I wasn't going to let him off that easily.
I dug in my heels. "I'll be here all night. Oh, and the next day, and the next day. You're kind of stuck with me. Out with it. Why are you afraid to be sorted?"
"I don't know who I am," he blurted.
"So? Isn't that what the witch is supposed to figure out?"
"I don't know what type of life I've lived. I don't know who I was. Was I a doctor, a mobster, a priest, a criminal? I have no idea. Don't you get it? I don't know which way I'll be sorted."
"Oh." It had never occurred to me that Logan could be anything but a good soul. Kindness just seemed like an integral part of his character. But he was right. I had no idea what went into sorting or how much control I'd have if I did it. What if I had to sort him to the underworld? What if Rick ended up eating his soul for supper? The thought was horrifying.
"The worst part is, if I wasn't a good person, you'll know. It'll be you who makes the call. Despite what you think, I do care for you. It's the major reason I'm not afraid to stay. Being with you, it makes this existence worth it."
"I can't be your whole existence." There, I'd said it. "I don't want to share my life with someone for eternity." Silence settled between us until we were interrupted by the timer on the oven.
"The roast is done," he murmured.
"How did you get all of this food? I'm sure I didn't leave a roast in the refrigerator."
"Um, yeah, you may owe around fifty dollars to Red Grove Grocery and Pub. I had it delivered."
"They delivered this on credit?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I may have taken the package while the delivery boy was distracted. Like, maybe the door opened by itself and the package fell from his hands before the door closed again."
"I see. I'll make sure the grocery gets paid, but please, in the future, give me a heads up first. I won't allow you to steal anything from anyone, and I can't afford to eat like this every night. Plus, I can't have the residents of Red Grove suspecting this place is haunted."
"Understood." I could have been mistaken, but for a moment, Logan appeared to be blushing. I'd never known a ghost could blush, but then Logan was my first.
"Listen, Logan. Dinner smells awesome. I'm sorry I'm not more appreciative, but I need to be alone right now.
He lowered his head, and I made for the bathtub by way of the wine cellar.
ge Cup of Joe
I did not make a decision. Weeks passed. Nothing happened. The ground didn't open up. I wasn't struck by lightning. As far as I was concerned, I could do non-committal for as long as it took. To fill my days, and keep my mind busy, I picked up extra shifts at the hospital and fell into an exhausting routine.
Logan proved amicable with my non-decision, although disappointed I wasn't choosing him romantically. No matter how many times I tried to explain our joining was a mistake, like literally an unexpected accident, I could sense that his feelings for me ran strong. He continued to cook and clean. He was an excellent listener. It was flattering...and completely wrong.
I passed Rick's stone cottage an average of twice a day, sometimes catching him on the porch or working near the cemetery, but I did not stop. With sad eyes, he'd watch me go, but he didn't come for me. Although he was fast enough, and strong enough to press the issue, he never did.
Summer, in pursuit of greener pastures, packed its bags and left New Hampshire, ushering autumn to Red Grove. Overnight, the trees grew bolder personalities, dressing in garnet and persimmon and welcoming my Jeep home with an increasing number of free-spirited leaves.
