Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Things happened. People left and came back. You never knew. Sarah was young and maybe she’d changed her mind. He’d gotten caught up in it all, just like his parents had. When it proved to be nothing, he’d felt like he was grieving all over again. But the next time it had happened, he’d known better.
But his mother had been sure the next time too. And the time after that. Every time she was sure, because she didn’t have anything else to be and keep living one day after the next. He didn’t want to take that away from her, but he’d been done helping her sustain it years ago.
“Mom,” he said, as gently as he could. “Sarah wasn’t at that diner. That waiter didn’t see her. I’m not going to Riverton. I’m sorry. Can we talk about something else?”
“You could go on a weekend,” she continued, her voice taking on the steel edge of someone who would have her will done and pity anyone who got in her way. “It would be a nice Saturday drive. You could get some pie at the diner, talk to Sharon, and put up the flyers. It’s lovely out.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going. You need to ask someone else.”
His mother started in again, and her inability to be reasoned with infuriated Zachary. This conversation was over.
“I’m going to hang up now, Mom. I love you.”
Then Zachary ended the call and lay down on the floor with his eyes closed, trying to scrape her voice out of his brain.
* * *
“A haunted hayride?”
“Yeah!” Bram stood in Zachary’s doorway, dressed in denim and flannel, looking like he should be doing something with hay himself.
“Why?”
Bram wrinkled his brow.
“Um, because it’s fun and seasonal and awesome?”
“Well, it beats driving sixty miles to ask a waiter about my dead sister’s ghost,” Zachary muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Um, yeah, okay.”
“Great!”
Bram stepped inside and folded Zachary into a full-body hug.
It was quickly becoming one of Zachary’s favorite things. Being completely surrounded by Bram’s warm, muscular body made him feel safe and cared for. He nuzzled his face tighter against Bram and breathed in his sunny smell.
“Mmm,” Bram hummed, and stroked up and down his spine. Then he worked his fingers at the nape of Zachary’s neck and into his hair, and Zachary melted. Bram took his weight easily.
“Don’t stop,” Zachary said into Bram’s chest.
“What?” Bram asked, but he followed the instruction anyway, so Zachary didn’t repeat it.
After several minutes of cuddling and petting, Zachary felt like a recharged battery.
“You okay?” Bram asked.
Zachary nodded.
“Okay, then get your coat!”
“Oh, you meant...now?”
“Yeah! It’s a Saturday in October, we’ve gotta do Halloween-y things!”
“Oh. Okay.”
For all that Zachary loved horror movies and loved designing and executing his Halloween decorations, he’d never pursued Halloween-y activities. But it did sound fun. Especially if Bram was going to be with him.
Yeah. Definitely better than talking to a waiter about his dead sister’s ghost.
* * *
The thing about riding on Bram’s motorcycle was that it made the getting there part just as much of an event as the being there part. The cold air kissed Zachary’s face and his clothes snapped around him like the wind was trying to pull him inside it. The familiar countryside whipped past at a new speed, the autumn leaves blurring to dappled color and light.
They pulled into a farm about twenty miles away and Bram helped Zachary off the bike. He felt expansive and oxygenated, like a drink fizzing over the top of the glass.
The sky around them was huge, and the air smelled of sweet decomposition and apples. Autumn in an orchard. Zachary hadn’t experienced it since he was a child.
Bram grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers, excitedly pulling him toward the sign for the hayrides.
A pumpkin patch to their right promised perfect pumpkins for carving, and the orchard to their left promised perfect apples for bobbing—not that Zachary would ever bob for apples; it was horribly unsanitary.
So they had that whole Halloween vibe nailed.
Mostly, though, Zachary paid attention to the feel of Bram’s warm hand in his, since apparently they were holding hands now.
They passed a scarecrow with straw leaking from between the buttons of its shirt.
“Hey, you’re twins,” Zachary said, pointing. The scarecrow’s plaid flannel was a shade darker blue than Bram’s but otherwise identical. It wore blue jeans as well.
Bram chuckled and let go of Zachary’s hand to stand with an arm slung around the scarecrow.
“Take a picture for my family?” he asked.
Zachary pulled out his phone. He took several shots that displayed their matching outfits fully. Then, almost before he realized he was doing it, he zoomed in on Bram’s smiling face, and snapped a picture just for himself. A picture to prove to himself that he had the attention and care of this glorious man—at least for a little while.