The Last Kiss Goodbye Read Free Page B

numbers of the digital clock over the microwave were perfectly visible through his wide and muscular chest: She could read the time: 11:22.
    “How—how do you feel?”
    “To tell the truth, like I died about a week back.”
    “Would you stop joking?” Her tone was fierce. “I’m serious.”
    He shrugged. “Thing is, I had a hell of a fight getting back here this time. Way harder than I’ve ever had before. Them Spookville walls—they didn’t want to let me out. If I hadn’t been so all-fired worried about you, I don’t think I could have made it through. Ever since I did, I’ve been feeling the damned place pulling at me, like it’s doing its best to reel me back in. Right now, it’s pulling pretty strong.” His eyes narrowed at her. “You got a particular reason for asking?”
    “Oh, God.” Her chest felt tight. Drawing a breath required real work. “I think—it might be time. I think—you might be getting ready to leave.”
    His brows snapped together. “What? Hell, no. I’m not going anywhere.”
    “I don’t think you have a choice.”
    “So do something. Ju-ju me.” His relatively unalarmed tone told her that he did not perceive the immediacy of the danger.
    Charlie shook her head, speechless because he was now pulsing like a lightbulb getting ready to burn out and was clearly unaware of it. Something that felt like a giant fist closed around her heart. She gripped the scissors so hard the metal hurt her fingers.
    She already knew how this story had to end. But she wasn’t ready. There was so much still unresolved between them, so much to say …
    “Please don’t take him yet.” The words were scarcely louder than a breath. Emerging of their own volition, they weren’t addressed to him: she was speaking to the universe, to the vast, unknowable forces of Eternity, to God himself. Then, realizing what she had said—and what it revealed—she shifted her grip on the scissors and looked down and started cutting through the tape on the box. Savagely.
    Anything to keep from watching him disappear.
    Because there was nothing she could do to stop it. Because this was the way it had to be.
    “Whoa, hold on there. What was that?” Even in this moment of what felt to Charlie like extremis, there was humor in his voice. “Sounded to me like that was you admitting you’re not ready to see the last of me.”
    “Oh, go—soak your head.” Her fingers stilled as she looked back at him. She’d been about to tell him to go to hell, before it had hit her like a baseball bat between the eyes that that was in all likelihood exactly where he was going.
    “Quit fighting it.” He was all but transparent now, as see-through as delicately colored cellophane, coming in and out of focus faster than she could blink. Grief and dread combined to turn her blood to ice. “Would it kill you to give up and admit that you’re crazy about me?”
    His eyes teased her. Her heart felt like it would crack in half.
    Okay, so she’d known this moment was coming. Known it from the beginning, from her first horrified realization that this scariest of ghosts had attached himself to her: the affliction was temporary.
    At first, she’d reminded herself of that as a source of comfort.
    Then she had simply tried not to think about it.
    But now, she discovered, she couldn’t bear the knowledge that he was actually about to be gone from her world.
    That she would never see him again.
    That he would be caught up in the horrible purple fog of the place he called Spookville, forever.
    Or at least until he was dragged off to someplace even worse.
    Abandoning the box, she put the scissors down on the table. Her movements were careful. Precise. Otherwise, she feared her hands would shake. Then, because her eyes were glued to him, she accidentally knocked the box over. All kinds of white packing peanuts came tumbling out, spilling across the table, onto the floor, everywhere.
    She scarcely noticed. She didn’t care.
    He was barely