Page 57 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
He shrugged awkwardly. The room fell silent. I ate the last bite off my plate.
"Would you like to play a game?" I asked.
"Sure," he said, brightening in his chair. "What did you have in mind?"
"There's a pool table downstairs. Eight ball?"
Logan nodded. "I remember. I remember how to play."
He followed me downstairs, and I racked the balls. In order to manipulate the pool cue, Logan had to disappear. I knew from the break I was in trouble. Whoever Logan had been in his life, he was damned good at pool.
"Do you have another date with the caretaker?" he asked out of the blue.
"Uh, yes. Tomorrow night."
He lined up another shot. "I've warned you Grateful-"
"I'm a big girl Logan. I can make my own decisions."
"Did anything, um, happen on your first date?"
My face was on fire. I placed my hand on my cheek. "That is none of your business."
"Why are you turning red? Oh...fuck..."
Embarrassed, I felt obligated to defend my honor. "We fooled around but, you know, nothing more."
A relieved sigh came from his side of the table.
What? Who did he think he was prying into my private life? If he wanted me to stay away from Rick, he needed to give a better explanation. "Why do you care so much, Logan?" I snapped.
He formed next to me, his aura burning brighter than I'd ever seen it. As if on impulse, he leaned in and kissed me. The cool vibration of his lips sent tingles over my scalp and down my spine.
When he pulled away, he broke apart and sifted into the air vent.
So much for my theory that Logan's intentions were solely platonic. Body or no body, his kiss was more than friendly.
st Haunts Me
Logan didn't come out that night, probably avoiding another confrontation about Prudence and the scrapbook. In fact, my house was pleasantly devoid of ghosts. I went to bed early thinking about our last conversation. Logan's words kept repeating in my head. "Ask your father. Ask him for the nurse's name. That's your clue."
The next day, I decided follow up on Logan's clue and call my dad over my lunch break. Across the street from the hospital is a restaurant called Valentine's. St. John's employees love it, because if you're wearing scrubs they serve you first. It's nice when people recognize a long lunch could mean someone's life. Plus, the food is better than the cafeteria, and they serve a yummy cappuccino. After 7:00 p.m., they open a bar in the back with a small dance floor surrounded by dartboards and pool tables. It's a great place to hang out.
I found a quiet booth and ordered a sandwich from an annoyingly perky waitress. Then I dialed Dad on my cell. It was a hard conversation to start. How do you ask a man about the day his wife bled to death? The topic was generally avoided in our family.
But when I thought about backing down, I thought about my ghost. Logan had hinted that this story would help me understand why he was in my attic and what I needed to know about Rick. I wanted to solve the mystery of my haunted house, but I also wanted to help him find peace. Not everyone would take a knife in the gut to help a friend, ghost or not. Logan was a good person, dead or alive.
"Hello," my dad said in his real estate agent voice, like he pooped sunshine and rainbows. It was why he was so good at what he did.
"Dad, it's me."
"Hi, sweetie. Everything okay with the new place?"
"Sure, yeah. It's great."
"What's up, then?"
"I need to talk to you about when I was a baby. It's just something I've been thinking about, and I have to know. I want you to tell me the whole story, everything you remember about when I was born."
