I bite my lip, still confused and reeling from the concept that ghosts are real and that maybe I really can see them.
“Looks like it,” I say, nodding and walking the circumference of the small altar.
Wade takes a step forward, reaching for the photo frame. “Is this you?”
“I guess,” I shrug.
Setting it back down on the altar, he turns to me. “You don’t know?”
“Not exactly,” I say, scrunching my face. “There’s a lot I need to fill you in on. Maybe we should go somewhere to get a bite to eat and I can tell you all about it. I’m starving.”
Wade looks longingly at the rest of the space, but nods. “Sure.”
Without another word, we make our way up the dusty wooden stairs to my bedroom. I close the door and push the dresser in front of it.
“Just in case…” I say, squinting my eyes at Wade.
“In case of what? Something tries to come up or someone else tries to go down?” he laughs, scratching at his temple.
“Both,” I mutter, making a face. “I still haven’t talked to my dad about it yet. There just hasn’t been a good time.”
“Ah,” he says, following me out into the hallway.
“I will, though. Don’t worry,” I say, shaking my head.
“I’m not worried.”
“Sure you aren’t. I know that tone, Angel.” We reach the front door and I grab my purse from the entryway table. We can tell him together later, if you want. He still has to meet you anyway. You can save the day and bring it up,” I say.
“No chance. You’re not pawning off your adulting responsibilities onto me,” he laughs, opening the door.
“Fine,” I mumble, “be that way. Psh.” Smiling back at him, I make my way down the stairs and climb into the passenger seat of Wade’s Impala.
Wade closes the front door, follows me to his car, and gets in.
“Still no sign of Blue, huh?” Wade asks, pulling out of the driveway’s loop.
I shake my head. “Not yet. Probably Monday.” I shoot him a sideways glance and reach for his hand. “That’s why Cat and Colton were here, you know. They dropped me off after school.”
Wade bristles at the sound of Colt’s name, but he nods.
An awkward silence falls over us and the next few minutes pass like molasses. I reach over to the radio and click it on. Classical music blasts through the speakers and I fumble to turn it down.
Wade chuckles.
“Wow, you sure like your classical music,” I say, groping at my chest to calm my racing heart.
“I was actually listening to music through the Aux cable. I didn't set the station,” he says, picking up the lead that’s dangling from the dashboard.
“Oh sure, that makes more sense,” I chuckle. “So, what were you listening to at such ear-shattering decibel levels?”
“Walking on Cars,” he laughs.
“Walking on wha?”
“Cars,” he repeats. “They’re an Irish band. Fantastic music.”
“And here I thought for sure you’d be cranking something like Marshmallow or Breaking Benjamin,” I say, smiling broadly.
“Oh boy. Ye lack musical taste,” he says, smiling.
The town lights come into view and our banter time with the radio is going to come to an abrupt end. Hopefully, I can continue to keep things on the lighter side.
“The burger place over there is really good,” I say, turning my head. We lock eyes for a moment, and his gaze takes me in, practically reducing me to soul level in a matter of seconds.
“Okay,” he whispers, returning his eyes to the road.
I clear my throat. “I want you to know, I'm glad you’re here. I know things kinda got off on a weird foot.”
“I'm glad to be here, too,” he says, smiling back.
He turns left, entering the Bourbon Room’s small parking lot. It’s a busy night—the majority of cars are parked along the road.
“My dad says this place has the best burgers he’s ever had. Evidently, that means something,” I say, tipping my chin toward the building’s façade as we exit the small parking lot in lieu of parking on the street. “I haven’t had the chance to try it yet.”
“Well, if it’s that highly esteemed, how could we pass this old folk’s home up?” Wade says. His tone is more playful and I can tell he’s starting to settle in.
“Right? See, I said the same thing when we first drove by it. It looks like someplace where the people inside should be sitting around big round tables playing poker and drinking bourbon—talking about the good ol’ cowboy’s code or something.”
“Right?” he snickers.
“Ready?” I say, reaching for the door handle.
As I turn to look over my shoulder, Wade has already left the vehicle and has walked around to my side to finish opening my door.
“Whoa, that was…fast,” I mutter, taking his outstretched hand.
“My lady,” he says, with a flourish of his hand.
I shake my head, but I can’t help but smile.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” I laugh.
“Ridiculous, perhaps. But a gentleman, nonetheless.” He quirks an eyebrow, placing my right hand on his left forearm and locking arms with me.
I tip my head in acknowledgment and let him lead the way to the door. As the gentleman he is, he steps out in front, opening the door and ushering me inside with the sweep of his hand.
“Thank you, kind sir,” I say, shaking my head at the absurdity of our exchanges. Sometimes I really do wonder if we’d ever find another person who gets the insanely weird things that light us up.
Thankfully, the atmosphere between us has softened and more of our original, playful banter is returning. It makes my heart sing and my body swoon. It’s not that I’ve forgotten, but it’s a nice reminder to know just how much I really do love him.
When we walk in, it’s no surprise when the place is packed. There are people bellied up to the bar, while others are playing pool in the other side room, and more yet are eating dinner at tables scattered throughout the restaurant.
“Just the two of you? Would
