Page 31 of You'll Be the Death of Me

“Let’s hope so,” he said with a grimace.

Robbie turned and ran off shouting, “Stay away from me!” into the morning air.

Jason quietly laughed. “This is probably funnier than it should be. Don’t hate me for laughing,D.”

She reached out and swatted at his arm. He flinched at the icy feeling and shot a grin in her direction. “Okay, I’m going to go make sure they don’t put you on a slab,” he said toward where she was standing, and then jogged off.

Dell watched him go, hoping whatever dramatic diversion he came up with served its purpose.

“He’s a good friend,” Cole said. “You’re lucky to have him.”

She turned to him, ready to say something snarky, but caught a sad look in his eye. A longing. “I know I’m lucky. I’m lucky to have everyone in my life.” The burning sensation like tears were imminent rushed up her throat only to fizzle out again. “And I want them back.”

Cole’s jaw clenched. He nodded. “I know.” He paused for a few beats and then said it again. “I know.”

They turned back toward her street. She noted he slowed his pace to keep in stride with her.

“So, what are we going to do?” she asked.

Cole pursed his lips and looked up at the sky. She studied the long line of his throat and chin.

“Well, it’s good news your friend is intervening on the examination process. That will slow things down, while we work on this list.”

She frowned up at him, now much shorter back in her own barefooted body. “The list. Can I at least change clothes first, or am I stuck in a nightgown for all eternity?” She pinched her satin skirt’s hem and let it flutter around her thighs.

He quickly averted his eyes after he stole a glance at her thighs. “Afraid so. The inability to move anything from the living world extends to clothing. The same as your body is in the state it was when you passed, so is your outfit.”

“Huh. So, is that what you were wearing when you died?” She nodded at his still rumpled clothes.

He glanced down and straightened his tie. “No. Things are different at the administration. It’s more like what life is like here when you’re alive.”

“So, it’s a choice, then. To not iron your shirt.”

“I—” He began to offer another factual response, and thenrealized she’d insulted him. She shot him a teasing smile. He smiled back. “Would an Austenian hero iron his shirt?”

“Probably with higher likelihood than a poetry professor. Were irons even around in the 1800s?”

“I believe they’ve been around since late BC.”

“Are you sure you’re not a professor?”

“Like I told you, I have no idea.”

Dell stopped walking and placed her hand on his arm. They were two houses down from hers. A few news vans were still parked at the curb, with a handful of reporters milling the sidewalk. They must have been waiting for someone to return, or perhaps someone was still inside the house.

“You really don’t know what you did before you died?” she asked Cole.

He glanced at her hand on his forearm. Her palm had landed below his rolled sleeve, so it rested on his exposed skin. The sensation was warm. A look of vulnerability filled his face. “Not anymore. It has faded since I’ve been waiting for my case to be investigated. I see things in bits and pieces, but it’s hard to know what’s real anymore.”

The sad note in his voice put an ache in her chest. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“Yeah. It’s a really special kind of torture.”

“Will you remember when you... move on?”

“Rumor has it, yes.”

She wasn’t entirely sure she believed him but didn’t get the chance to further push because a woman burst around the corner and came charging at them from up the street. Dell reeled on reflex before she remembered they were invisible.