After all, I’d seen her temper. She’d proven her stability issues to me only an hour earlier. Not that one thing couldn’t lead to another or vice versa. Could her genuinely being haunted lead to other problems? A decline in physical and mental well-being? Of course. It just wasn’t likely. Most often, the person was delusional to begin with.
It was nothing to be ashamed of. I knew more about mental disorders than most. I also knew more about the paranormal underworld than most, hence my plan to run for the border.
“I saw a video,” Jason said as if that cleared everything right up.
“Because those can’t be manipulated.”
“Dude.” He scrubbed his face and growled in frustration. “Why would she even do that?”
“You forget, I’ve seen her Jekyll and Hyde routine.”
“Yes, but why?” he pleaded. “What would she have to gain? She lost her shit when she found out I’d seen the video.”
I nodded. “That, I can believe.”
He jolted forward, hope alight in his eyes. “You believe me about the ghost?”
“No, I’ve seen her lose her shit. I believe that part.”
He collapsed again. It was like watching a soap opera. “She doesn’t want anyone to know, so why create a video proving she has a ghost? Or a poltergeist. Or whatever you call it.”
“Fine,” I said, giving an inch. “Let’s say a departed has attached itself to her. Or to something she has. What am I supposed to do about it?”
“You’re asking me?” He paused to gape at me before adding, “You’re the one who deals with this shit on a daily basis.”
“Not daily,” I said, pouting a bit.
He deadpanned me, his disbelief shining through in brilliant Technicolor.
“It’s more like every other day.”
He continued to stare until I caved.
“Okay, it’s daily, but it’s not all bad. It’s just so…daily.”
“All I’m saying is that she’s had it rough. She’s been terrorized by this thing since she was a kid. And she’s dealt with it on her own.” He tossed a glance her way, and I saw sympathy shimmering behind the mask of coolness he wore twenty-four-seven. “Her parents didn’t believe her either.”
I raised the cage around my heart. Reinforced it with barbed wire and steel. This was not my problem. “And she told you all of this?”
“No.” He shook his head, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “She won’t talk about it. Not even with the countless therapists and counselors her parents forced her to see for years. Her father told me. He’s at his wit’s end.”
“So, he magically believes her now?”
“He does. Her mother did, too, before she died last year. Halle is all Donald has left.”
“Donald?”
“Nordstrom. My business partner and the money behind all of this.” He spread his arms, indicating the popular bar and grill.
I leaned closer and said softly, “It still doesn’t mean she’s being haunted by anything other than her own mind.”
“I know,” he said, conceding the point. “Just talk to her, okay? Read her aura—”
“Her what?”
“—and decide for yourself.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. If she weren’t being ghosted—literally—then she was one hundred percent certifiable, and there was little I could do about either. Just because I could see the departed now didn’t mean I had the skills to deal with them. They were more stubborn than the living. The fact that they were still on this plane when they should’ve crossed was proof of that. And they rarely left, even when I asked nicely.
“Time is running out,” he added.
“What do you mean?”
He lowered his voice, his brows drawn into a severe line. “She tried to kill herself a couple of years ago.”
I stared at him, the image of that ethereal creature trying to end her life throwing a left hook at my heart. Throwing and landing with his next words.
“And her father is convinced she’s about to go for round two.”
Chapter Two
And the award for
Chump of the Year goes to…
—T-shirt
Don’t do it.
Jason’s words hit like a forty-five-caliber round to my chest. Emotion seared across my skin and burned the backs of my eyes. A bit dramatic, maybe, but holy shit. Not only had I been duped, tricked into coming to Idaho—a fact that stunned me more than I cared to admit—but I’d also been lured into an impossible situation.
Don’t do it.
Part of me wanted to rip my best friend’s head off. He had no right to lay this on me. But I quickly made a mental U-turn. Out of every man in the bar—short, tall, beefy, small—Jason Vigil was the only one who could very likely take me in a bare-knuckle brawl. We’d both been boxers in high school, trading off championships like a baseball fan trades cards. We’d graduated to mixed martial arts soon after. Even then, I’d hated fighting Jason. We were too close, brothers, and I’d always wondered if he pulled his punches.
I didn’t want to find out. Not now. And I didn’t want to discover which of us had weathered our respective years best. If things didn’t go as planned, I would be humiliated for the second time that day, and my self-esteem could only take so many hits.
Not to mention the fact that I couldn’t throw a punch anymore to save my life. I couldn’t fight if I wanted to. I was absolutely useless.
Don’t do it.
Despite my best efforts, my gaze flitted to the girl. Her haunted expression didn’t sway me. Didn’t even nudge the needle. I didn’t care if she’d been terrorized for years. That she looked as thin and frail as a paper doll. That she’d tried to take her life. I was done. Done with ghosts. Done with hellhounds. Done with demons—especially demons. Fuckers. None of it mattered. None of it was my problem. Not anymore. Even when she looked up from her book, her gaze meeting mine, and I found myself treading frantically just to keep my head above the murky depths I found there. I didn’t budge.
Don’t do it.
“You seem upset.”
I turned back to Jason and quickly reassessed my chances of getting in a kidney punch before he took me to the mat. If I was certain I could take the shot, which I wasn’t, I may have tried. “You think?”
The muscles in Jason’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward onto his elbows. “I’m sorry.”
“About which part? The luring me here under false pretenses bit, or the fact that you’re ruining my vacation?”
“Neither.” He pointed over my shoulder. “I think she recognized you.”
I whirled around.
She was headed our way, carrying the mug and her book.
“That’s my cue.” Jason flew out of his chair and booked it to the kitchen. Cowardly bastard.
The seat he’d vacated didn’t stay empty for long. Before I could get up and run myself—I said he was a cowardly bastard, not that I wasn’t—she sank into Jason’s chair, folding her long legs as gracefully as a fawn settling onto a forest floor.