didn’t remember later what he had done? That seemed pretty damn crazy for a guy who was walking around looking debonair, not to mention doing the type of top-secret government jobs that got the person investigating him dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.
So Dillon was a ghost. And Chesney a villain.
No. Lucas was insane. Definitely, Lucas was insane.
And damn, it was after 9 already, and Sylvie had forgotten how much she hated her gym in the late evening.
“Jealous boyfriend. Better luck next time,” Sylvie tossed off her standard reply to the third guy to approach her, including a quick smile before turning her head away. The first two had accepted her answer gracefully. Maybe they recognized it for the lie it was, but she found most guys appreciated its face-saving quality. But number three wasn’t as bright.
“Hey, I’m just being friendly,” he claimed, leaning over the front bar of the elliptical and into her space.
Sylvie bumped up the resistance level on the keypad before looking back up and responding. “Jealous boyfriend. Lots of guns. Have a nice life.” She stared directly into his eyes, no smile, her gaze steady and unflinching. It took only a few seconds before he backed away, hands up.
She heard him mutter, “Bitch,” under his breath as he moved off to try his luck elsewhere and she promptly forgot him.
Lucas: insane. Or Dillon: a ghost. Both choices sucked.
But that text. “You would have been a good mom.” From Lucas, it would have been callous and mean-spirited. From a fifteen-year old? He might not have understood how his words would affect Sylvie. From him, the words might be sweet.
So Lucas: insane, callous, and mean.
Or Dillon: a ghost. A sweet ghost.
Damn it.
She pushed the elliptical up to its highest level, pushed her heart rate to its highest level, and tried to stop thinking.
In the shower, the realization suddenly hit her. The ghost of a teenage boy might be watching her every move as she stretched to shampoo her hair, ran the soap over her body. She froze, instinctively reaching out with her sixth sense to feel the presences in her vicinity. She brushed against the active minds—most distracted, busy, a couple in the mindful flow state of a good workout, one with an unpleasant seething excitement that caused her to recoil. Then she remembered that she wouldn’t be able to feel Dillon even if he was there. She hadn’t felt him before, back at the hotel, so however her sixth sense worked, it didn’t read ghostly emotions.
Definitely, Lucas was crazy. She liked that option so much better. Except . . . sitting on the bench in the dressing room, pulling on her shoes, Sylvie took a long deep breath before exhaling slowly. Lucas wasn’t insane. He didn’t feel insane. Which meant that she and Dillon needed to have a long talk as soon as possible.
Lucas might not care if Dillon moved on, but Sylvie had always wanted what was best for Dillon, and being a ghost did not fit that description as far she was concerned. She was going to find out what he needed and get her boy a damn white light.
On the other hand, it might be nice to have a chance to get to know him a little. As she walked toward the exit, she tried to imagine what it would be like to live with a ghost. He wouldn’t eat much. She wondered what he liked to watch on television. Or what music he enjoyed. Would he want to go places with her? DC had lots of museums. She could take him to the Smithsonian. Or maybe the Iwo Jima Marine Corps Memorial. It offered a good view of the city on a clear day, and maybe he’d be interested in the Marine Corps history on the placards.
Her distraction made her a little slower than usual, but not so slow that she didn’t realize the unpleasant mind she’d felt earlier was waiting for her as she pushed open the door. Ugh. Like she needed this tonight.
It had to be guy number three.
Did she care? He'd backed down easily enough and a broken finger might serve to
So Dillon was a ghost. And Chesney a villain.
No. Lucas was insane. Definitely, Lucas was insane.
And damn, it was after 9 already, and Sylvie had forgotten how much she hated her gym in the late evening.
“Jealous boyfriend. Better luck next time,” Sylvie tossed off her standard reply to the third guy to approach her, including a quick smile before turning her head away. The first two had accepted her answer gracefully. Maybe they recognized it for the lie it was, but she found most guys appreciated its face-saving quality. But number three wasn’t as bright.
“Hey, I’m just being friendly,” he claimed, leaning over the front bar of the elliptical and into her space.
Sylvie bumped up the resistance level on the keypad before looking back up and responding. “Jealous boyfriend. Lots of guns. Have a nice life.” She stared directly into his eyes, no smile, her gaze steady and unflinching. It took only a few seconds before he backed away, hands up.
She heard him mutter, “Bitch,” under his breath as he moved off to try his luck elsewhere and she promptly forgot him.
Lucas: insane. Or Dillon: a ghost. Both choices sucked.
But that text. “You would have been a good mom.” From Lucas, it would have been callous and mean-spirited. From a fifteen-year old? He might not have understood how his words would affect Sylvie. From him, the words might be sweet.
So Lucas: insane, callous, and mean.
Or Dillon: a ghost. A sweet ghost.
Damn it.
She pushed the elliptical up to its highest level, pushed her heart rate to its highest level, and tried to stop thinking.
In the shower, the realization suddenly hit her. The ghost of a teenage boy might be watching her every move as she stretched to shampoo her hair, ran the soap over her body. She froze, instinctively reaching out with her sixth sense to feel the presences in her vicinity. She brushed against the active minds—most distracted, busy, a couple in the mindful flow state of a good workout, one with an unpleasant seething excitement that caused her to recoil. Then she remembered that she wouldn’t be able to feel Dillon even if he was there. She hadn’t felt him before, back at the hotel, so however her sixth sense worked, it didn’t read ghostly emotions.
Definitely, Lucas was crazy. She liked that option so much better. Except . . . sitting on the bench in the dressing room, pulling on her shoes, Sylvie took a long deep breath before exhaling slowly. Lucas wasn’t insane. He didn’t feel insane. Which meant that she and Dillon needed to have a long talk as soon as possible.
Lucas might not care if Dillon moved on, but Sylvie had always wanted what was best for Dillon, and being a ghost did not fit that description as far she was concerned. She was going to find out what he needed and get her boy a damn white light.
On the other hand, it might be nice to have a chance to get to know him a little. As she walked toward the exit, she tried to imagine what it would be like to live with a ghost. He wouldn’t eat much. She wondered what he liked to watch on television. Or what music he enjoyed. Would he want to go places with her? DC had lots of museums. She could take him to the Smithsonian. Or maybe the Iwo Jima Marine Corps Memorial. It offered a good view of the city on a clear day, and maybe he’d be interested in the Marine Corps history on the placards.
Her distraction made her a little slower than usual, but not so slow that she didn’t realize the unpleasant mind she’d felt earlier was waiting for her as she pushed open the door. Ugh. Like she needed this tonight.
It had to be guy number three.
Did she care? He'd backed down easily enough and a broken finger might serve to
Similar Books
