His Everlasting Love: 50 Loving States, Virginia (3 page)

As a “kid” in her 20s, Willa hung on every word, fascinated and eager to get started, even if Dolores’s use of the word
ghost
sent a chill up her back. She hated that word—even when it was being used in a completely different context.

Shaking the chill off, she asked, “S-so why are we on this fl-floor?”

Then remembering the intensive speech clinic she’d done during her first year of med school, she took a deep breath, slowed down, and asked much more smoothly, “Do you usually pay visits to patients in the ICU?”

“No, but we just had a SEAL come in. Nasty crash on the front end of a rescue mission. Helicopter malfunction, and his leg got the worst of it. It took a while to extract him and he’s still in a coma. But I thought this might be a good chance for you to see one of our cases from the beginning because that leg’s definitely headed into surgery.”

Despite the grim nature of the SEAL’s prospects, a thrill shot through Willa at the thought of seeing an amputee case from start to finish. Exactly the kind of experience she’d hoped to have when she applied for this fellowship.

“This is an amazing opportunity. Thank you!” she told Delores. “Do you mind if I ask—?”

She cut herself off when she saw the man in a dark green jumpsuit standing at the end of the hallway.

Willa blinked, unable to reconcile what she was seeing. Who she was seeing. Because it looked just like…Sawyer Grant.

A few years older and a lot more clean-cut than he’d been while making her life miserable in high school. And a hell of a lot more perturbed. Even from a distance she could see how upset he was.

But it
was
him. Definitely him. No matter how far she got from Greenlee County, she would never forget that devilishly handsome and supremely annoying face, even with the military-grade haircut he currently sported. But what was he doing here?

Dread pooled in the bottom of Willa’s throat as she asked Delores, “Are patients allowed to have visitors in ICU?”

“Only immediate family members,” Delores answered.

Okay, so maybe that was it. Maybe Sawyer’s older brother, Josh, was in there. But wasn’t he in law school now? She vaguely recalled hearing something about how he’d completed his service and started law school when she was home in Greenlee last Christmas.

Okay then, she thought, maybe it was a cousin or something in ICU. Sawyer’s extended family had strong military ties and it wouldn’t surprise her if a few of his other relatives had ended up in service, too. That could explain it. It didn’t have to be the other thing…

Still, panic seized Willa’s entire body, threatening to lock it up.
Don’t go there,
she told herself.
That’s not why he’s here. That’s not why he’s here.

Her inner voice spoke so calmly, so reasonably, she was almost set to believe what she was telling herself.

But then a group of nurses came off the elevator. And instead of throwing Sawyer flirty looks, as most women did, they passed right through him.

Like completely through him.

And that was when Willa knew. Knew like she always did. Sawyer wasn’t, to use her mother’s phrasing, “on our exact plane of existence.”

No wonder he looked so upset.

She watched him pat himself down, not quite freaking out. But not looking too doggone happy about his relatively new state of not exactly being either.

Look away!
her inner-voice screamed at her.

First rule of
I Can See Ghosts Club
: don’t talk about the fact that you, like your crazy mother, can see ghosts. Second rule of
I Can See Ghosts Club
: if you don’t want to end up exactly like the aforementioned crazy mother, don’t
ever
let the ghosts know you can see them.

But Willa couldn’t look away. Any other time, yes. She’d seen ghosts freak out after getting passed through plenty of times. The osteopathic medical school she attended in Alabama was brand spanking new, but she’d gone to UVA for undergrad, a university founded before the civil war and therefore positively crawling with ghosts—not one of which had been aware she could see them during her four years of attendance.

But this was Sawyer Grant freaking out.
Sawyer Grant!
The prick who’d made her high school life hell. A boy, now a man, who she’d never seen look fazed much less completely lose his shit. She couldn’t help but stare.

And unfortunately, this decision would end up costing her dearly.

So glued was she to the sight of Sawyer coming undone, she didn’t look away until it was too late.

Like a homing beacon, he suddenly seemed to sense he had an audience. His eyes found hers. Only for a second, but it was one second too long.

Willa quickly looked away, but not before catching his hard squint.

“Any rules I should know about before we go in?” she asked Delores, making a big show of acting like she couldn’t see Sawyer standing near the door.

“Yeah, don’t be an idiot,” Delores answered. But then she shivered. “Is it cold down here? Or is it just me?”

It wasn’t just her. But unlike Delores, she was used to the chill ghosts cast when they got too close. And unlike Delores, she could hear Sawyer at her back, saying. “Wait, I know you. You’re Mouth’s sister, Stork.”

She hadn’t spoken to Thel in years at that point, not since she ran away from home after Trevor’s misfortune. But being referred to as her sister brought Virginia all the way back. To most people in Greenlee County, that was all she’d ever been. Either The Crazy Librarian’s daughter, or the plain and much less interesting sister of the only other black girl at Greenlee High.

Willa was grateful to Sawyer then, because him referring to her in this manner made it that much easier for her to ignore him.

“No, I’m not cold at all,” she answered Delores. Gaze straight ahead. Like she couldn’t hear or feel Sawyer’s ghost behind her.

“Hope I’m not coming down with something,” Delores grumbled. “Last thing I need on top of pulling mama duck duty with you.”

“Can you see me, Stork?” Sawyer demanded. “It looked like you could see me. If you can see me, talk to me.
Please.
Tell me what the hell’s going on here. I don’t understand.”

God, she was tempted to turn around. Just for the chance to watch Sawyer Grant beg
her
, Willa Harper.

But she wasn’t in high school anymore. She was a grown woman. One who knew better than to stop to chat with ghosts, or undecided spirits, or whatever the hell he was now.

“Probably just the air conditioning,” Willa said real deliberately to Delores, nodding at the nearest vent.

“Yeah, maybe.” But Delores cast an incredulous look at the vent. Like most people who could sense something there, but couldn’t see it, she was probably also being hit with a huge sensation of foreboding. The kind of horror movie stuff that was hard to ignore.

But proving what a consummate professional she was, Delores pushed through the doors anyway. And Willa followed, leaving Sawyer begging and pleading outside. Still believing nobody could see him.

She walked through the door, feeling like every high school nerd in every high school movie, when the cocky jock finally gets his comeuppance.

BUT THAT FEELING OF TRIUMPH hadn’t lasted long. And six years later, she found herself at the window of her childhood bedroom, standing with the sister she was once again sharing it with.

“Why did Sawyer Grant buy you a car?” Thel asked her now. “I thought he hated us.”

“I don’t know,” Willa lied. She loved her sister, but what happened six years ago with Sawyer Grant wasn’t a story she’d ever told. Or ever would tell. “Donny Lacer’s dad was trying to upcharge the hell out of me because of our credit situation. Guess he felt sorry for me.”

Thel frowned out the window, looking like she didn’t quite believe Willa, but didn’t want to dig for more info for fear Willa might ask her too many questions about the sudden disappearance of her spot in the SoCal Opera’s YAP program.

Stuff had happened to both of them during the years between Thel running away from home and them both returning here six years ago. They’d kill and/or die for each other—but tell their secrets?—no, that was still a bridge too far.

However, Willa’s secret had just moved back to town. And if she didn’t figure out how to get out of dodge soon, Sawyer Grant could end up ruining her life. Again.

4

Thel Okeanos was singing.

Her voice floated across the wide, open space between their properties, easily overcoming the babble of the river. Hearing her sing made him truly feel like he was home again, because this was how it used to be back in high school. Him occasionally drinking beer on his balcony and watching the stars above as her lovely voice filled up the dark night.

However, her singing wasn’t quite the same now. Thel had sung gospel standards back then. A pop song, on occasion, but only the ones that sounded like they could be interchanged with a church song if you took out all the references to sex. The song now bridging the divide between her little house and his wasn’t even in English, he didn’t think. Italian maybe? He wasn’t into opera, but this song sounded an awful lot like it belonged in the final, slow motion climactic scene of a war movie.

But Thel’s voice was still enchanting. He reckoned most of the guys at Greenlee had harbored a crush on her back then. Because of that voice. Because of those sultry eyes. Also, because of those curves…

Her sister’s nickname had stuck fast, but no one but him had ever dared to call Thel “Mouth.” Mostly because she really did have a mouth on her, and she wielded it like a weapon, often slaying any girl or boy who’d even think of talking to her the wrong way with just a few words.

The older sister hadn’t been a thing like the younger. Thel didn’t stutter. Thel didn’t seem to be frightened of her own shadow. She was a whole hell of lot browner than anybody else at Greenlee High, but not nearly as dark as Stork.

Two different fathers, kids used to whisper. Though nobody knew for sure. According to the tales, her crazy mama had gone off to college in North Carolina, the pride and joy of her poor single father, but had come back less than a year later. Pregnant. Then she’d mysteriously gotten pregnant again just a few months after Thel was born. Irish twins, except they were black and nobody knew for certain who their fathers were. And anyone who dared ask The Crazy Librarian about it had gotten indecipherable answers in return.

But he’d heard something about Marian claiming Thel’s daddy had been the son of a siren, visiting her college on an exchange program from Greece. Nights like this, that tale was easy to believe.

Thel’s voice filled up the night like an enchanted thing, seeming to provide a soundtrack to the stars. However tonight, it wasn’t Thel he thought of, but her sister.

Those brown eyes staring back at him. That face of hers, so much more compelling now than he remembered it being back then, even though she wasn’t much changed. Other than a much-needed twenty or thirty pounds of weight gain, she still looked like the same dark thing who’d hung out in her sister’s shadow. Like a woodland creature, so silent and still, you could just about hear her praying not to get noticed.

He’d purposefully ignored those prayers back then. And now…well, now he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

I see you, Stork. I definitely see you.

He opened a fat bottle of Bulleit and wrapped his lips around its short neck. Not as easy to drink directly from this bottle as it had been with the Jack, and he didn’t especially like mixing brands. But Bulleit was all he had left in the house, and his gimp leg hurt like a motherfucker after tooling around all day on his motorcycle.

No way he was putting his fake leg back on to drive into town for more Jack. Greenlee’s one liquor store was closed anyways.

He took another swig, wondering how long it would be before he passed out. No more pain. And maybe no more her, haunting his thoughts like a goddamned ghost.

HE WAS RIGHT about the alcohol killing the pain in his leg. It felt better when he woke up on his balcony, covered in early morning dew. However, the rest of his body was stiff after sleeping outside on patio furniture. Including the flesh between his legs.

He stared at the tent inside his sweat pants in true wonder. Huh…that was new.

He hadn’t been able to get excited like he used to for women since losing his leg. No surprise there. How fun was it to go out to a bar, charm a girl into going home with you, but then have to explain about your gimp leg, before you drop your pants?

The answer was, not very fun. At all. In fact, he’d mostly stuck to his hand for the last couple of years. Easier with less mess.

But today he’d woken up with his pants full of morning wood, and a lingering dream of Stork Harper’s legs around his waist as he took her hard and deep. So no, the bottle-and-a-half of bourbon definitely hadn’t solved that problem.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?
he wondered, even as he reached down and pulled himself out of his sweats.

His erection was harder than anything he’d experienced in a very long time. Ridged and angrily veined, demanding attention.

He fisted it hard, not believing it was making him do this after so many years of laying there, flaccid. Not getting turned on for fuck all, unless he commanded it to perform for some girl he’d brought back to his place because he was bored.

But it was working now. Standing tall for Stork Harper. He thought of her as he stroked himself. His fist moving faster and faster as he imagined her on top of him, moaning, her hips rocking back and forth. He could almost feel her around his cock. Hot and tight. So fucking tight…

His balls constricted and his eyes squeezed shut, as the coming tide sizzled over the small of his back. Sawyer nutted all over his hand, and even then he couldn’t stop working himself. Couldn’t stop thinking of her and spilling more ropes of cum onto his shorts and the chair, until he was completely spent, his dick flopping over like a soldier giving final surrender.

His ears rung as he looked around. Fuck, what a mess. He’d have to clean up the chair, and himself. Their old housekeeper, Grace, didn’t start back until next week, and fuck if he was going to let the little Latina lady who’d pretty much raised him after his mom died, see what he’d been up to. He reached for his crutches and began the long process of hauling his gimp ass out of the chair and into the bathroom where he transferred to a pair of crutches with rain tips that he’d designated just for the shower.