by AJ Rose
“Thank you. I could have just bought another one.”
Nate handed it over at the same time he wedged his shoe in the doorway so Mitch couldn’t lock him out.
“Now you don’t have to.”
“Well, um, thank you,” Mitch said, clearly dismissive.
“Mitch,” he began, growing more determined when Mitch tried to close the door. “I need to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to say,” Mitch argued, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t do this. I told you that.”
“Why?” Nate pushed. “I thought we were having fun. I thought we were enjoying spending time together, and things were going really well.”
Mitch sighed and beckoned Nate inside so he could lock the door. Sadie came out from behind the counter and butted her head against Nate’s knee. He reached down to pet her soft, furry head, scratching her ears but keeping his eyes trained on Mitch, who looked really uncomfortable.
“They were, but—”
“So tell me what I did wrong. Seriously, Mitch, no one’s ever run away from me so fast.” As it did every time Nate called up the memory, his pride gave a stinging throb.
“You didn’t do anything. It’s not you.”
“Oh, that is so cliché!” Nate exploded, surprising himself with his vehemence.
An older man poked his head out from one of the aisles in back. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Mitch answered, glaring at Nate. “Nate was just leaving.”
“What?” the man said, coming forward and setting aside the books he held. “Why? I could make coffee if you two want to chat. I’m Charles,” he said, approaching Nate with his hand out.
Taken aback by the warm welcome, Nate shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. Coffee would be great,” he said, training a hopeful gaze on Mitch.
“I already cleaned the coffee machine, Dad.”
“No problem.” Charles waved his son off. “I’ll make some in my office. How do you take it, Nate?”
“Uh, two sugars and a splash of cream or milk, if you have it.”
“Want a shot of one of the fancy syrups?” he asked, gesturing at the shelf of bottles in the little café set up for customers.
“Christ, Dad. I’ll make it, okay?” Mitch said, exasperated but with a fond twist to his lips. “But you’re doing the cleanup.”
“Excellent. If you’ll make me one of those fancy lattes, you got a deal.”
“Oh my God,” Mitch mumbled under his breath but loud enough for Nate to hear. “Pick your poison,” he said as he rounded the counter to play barista.
Nate didn’t want to trouble him, so he said he’d have the same thing as Charles and took a seat at one of the two tables by the coffee bar. A few minutes later, Mitch delivered his father’s mug to the back office and then sat, handing Nate his order—in a to-go cup.
“Your dad’s really nice,” Nate said, taking a sip and wincing at the temperature.
“He’s a meddling nuisance, is what he is,” Mitch said, amused and annoyed at the same time.
They sat in awkward silence until Nate couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Why?” was all he could think to say.
“I… can’t exactly explain it,” Mitch answered, staring intently at his fingers as he traced a pattern on the table surface. “But trust me, it’s better this way.”
“Better for you or for me?”
“Both of us,” Mitch said, world-weariness written all over his face. “You don’t understand.”
“So help me to,” Nate prodded. “If I don’t know what I did wrong, I can’t fix it.”
The sadness in Mitch’s eyes when he finally made eye contact took Nate aback. “There’s no way to fix it. It just is. I like you, Nate. A lot. But I can’t be with you. I can’t be with anyone, so it’s better to stop before it gets too hard to walk away.”
“Is this because of all the rumors? I thought I made it clear I don’t give a damn about that.”
Mitch bit his lip. “I know you did. It’s not about the rumors or what other people think. It’s just what’s better for you.”
“Because of Tate. And something you think I already know about her,” Nate said, paraphrasing Mitch’s parting line. “What did you mean?”
Mitch’s discomfort grew to agitation as he ran his hands through his hair a few times and blew out a pent-up breath. “That requires an explanation I can’t give you.”
“She’s not gone, is she?” Nate asked quietly, for the first time voicing his suspicion aloud.
“No,” Mitch confirmed.
Nate’s chest expanded with the weight of several emotions, worry that Tate was in some kind of limbo, elation that maybe he still had contact with her, hope to get the chance, and fear of the unknown, because what if she was ripped away from him again? But he left all that to examine more closely later, focusing on Mitch.
“You can see her?”
Mitch’s lips thinned, but his lack of answer was indication enough.
“Is she okay?” Nate demanded.
“As far as I can tell, yeah. But I don’t know what’ll happen to her. I don’t know what her being here means,” Mitch said, his fingers waging war with each other.
“How do you see her? Are you psychic or something?”
“Nate, I told you I can’t explain it. You’ll just have to take my word. Your sister is still hanging around you, and if I weren’t… who I am, that wouldn’t bother me a bit. I’m sure she was a great person, and it’s clear she loved you very much.”
“Then what the hell happened? Why did knowing the person you see hanging around me is my sister send you running away?”
Mitch closed his eyes as though he were in pain, folding his arms into his stomach and leaning forward until his forehead almost touched the table. “Nate, listen to me. I can’t see you anymore, so chewing over the details doesn’t help either one of us. I got carried away with you, but I’m ending it. Please understand I have my reasons.”
The swell of anger that filled all the hollows in Nate’s chest was unexpected, but it was better than the helplessness that had plagued him for the last week. “Do I not get a say at all?”
“No. It’s not fair, but you really don’t. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Then tell me!” he shouted. “I deserve better than this.”
“You do,” Mitch agreed readily, his gray eyes stormy as he looked around the shop, anywhere but at Nate. “You deserve someone to grow old with, someone you can share a real life with. That’s not me, so you should go.”
“What, are you in some sort of arranged marriage?” Nate snapped. It was the only thing that made sense, even while it was entirely stupid.
“You could call it that. I’m not allowed to give you details. So as fun as it was, it’s over.” Mitch stood to open the door and throw Nate out into the cold, but Nate grabbed his forearm, halting him. Mitch’s skin was so warm, Nate wanted to burrow into him. The ache he’d had from being alone when he’d never been alone a minute in his life shifted and grew like smoke from a banked fire catching a new piece of kindling.
“It was good with us,” he said, almost pleading with Mitch to agree, because if he didn’t, then Nate had been way off-base. He practically burned with feeling stupid, so he needed to hear Mitch agree. He kept on, pushing the point home. “It was better than either of us have had, right? I know I wasn’t alone in feeling that.”
Mitch lowered his head, and for a moment, Nate thought he saw a shine to his eyes before Mitch averted his face.
“Go, okay? You’ll thank me one day.”
Nate released Mitch’s arm and followed him to the front door, his coffee forgotten. Mitch hadn’t said it, hadn’t agreed there was a spark between them they’d be idiots to ignore. Maybe it had all been in his head. Maybe he really was some obsessed teenager unable to let go. They’d only dated a couple weeks, after all. Unsure of himself, he stalled at the door, giving Sadie a last good scratch and a kiss to the top of her head
, hoping Mitch would validate the certainty in his chest that walking out now was a mistake.
It never happened. Mitch stood by, waiting to lock up again, not giving Nate the satisfaction of being able to see into his eyes.
Before Nate stepped out of the shop, the anger in his chest roared beside the ache once more, and despite his smarting pride, despite being rejected so thoroughly, he did the only thing he could think of.
He grabbed Mitch and kissed him with everything he had—all his desire and conviction that they were something amazing and could still be so. If he could just show Mitch it was worth it, despite whatever odds Mitch thought were stacked against them, maybe he could break through that sad, impenetrable shell.
Maybe Mitch could admit they’d been something more despite the short duration. Maybe Mitch would see Nate was somebody, even if he’d not felt whole during the six months his life had been ripped apart.
But Mitch didn’t say a word when Nate backed away. If anything, he only looked more determined to shut the door and never look Nate’s way again.
Chapter 12
A Deal with the Devil
The quiet of the store ate at Mitch’s core, doing him no favors as he cleaned the coffee machine again. Out of a stupid burst of sentimentality, he’d taken Nate’s latte for himself, drinking it before it could go cold and trying to simultaneously hold onto the sense-memory of Nate kissing him, as well as forget it for the sake of his own well-being. He wasn’t wrong, even if every cell in his body was screaming at him to go after the man, apologize, and lay his soul bare.
God, that kiss! That had felt just as right as walking away.
But he did nothing except the job at hand, willing Nate’s words to fade from his mind. They had been good together. So good, Mitch had begun to let himself believe a life with love, one that didn’t include loss and pain, was possible for him. He’d begun to hope, and that held the biggest sting of all, because a part of him still hoped. Still yearned. That part smarted like a bitch as he’d locked the door behind his, what, ex-boyfriend? Biggest mistake? The best thing that had ever happened to him?
More like the worst. I was fine until he showed up.
That was a lie he didn’t have the strength to attempt believing. He hadn’t been fine. He’d been lonely. Pissed off that his future was so fucked up through no fault of his own. He’d been coasting on routine, believing he was helping people and it was for the greater good, so his sacrifice was actually worth it.
Even two weeks of possibility, of the first stages of what could have grown into so much more, had ruined his delusions, and now, facing that life alone wasn’t only lonely, it was full of barbed wire, intent on scratching him every time he tried to move on.
“I thought I was supposed to do that,” Charles said, putting his mug in the small sink beside the espresso machine.
“It’s no big deal.”
“How’d it go?”
Charles was well aware of what was going on. Mitch had fled Nate’s apartment and gone directly to the store, in near panic after having realized the mistake he was making, that it might already be too late to stop his feelings for the man who turned out not to be a reaper. He’d sat in the very seats he and Nate had occupied this evening and spilled his guts to his father, railing against their ancestors for fucking up his world while at the same time blaming himself for getting involved with anyone at all. He should have known, he kept saying. He should have known it was too good to be true, especially when Soul Girl—Tate—hadn’t moved on during their time together. Most souls entered their door within a few days, even if his dad had said outliers were possible. Hell, looking back on it, Mitch should have noted the resemblance.
His father had argued that Mitch couldn’t have known, that it was rare for a ghost to latch onto a person and appear connected the way a soul was tethered to a reaper. The rules of secrecy had demanded neither of them discuss their reapership, and Mitch had followed them to the letter. Charles surmised that perhaps Tate and Nate were one of a kind, that being twins explained the connection, how Tate hadn’t faded over time, like many ghosts did.
Mitch simply didn’t have enough knowledge of ghosts to know why Tate was so strong. He only knew Nate wasn’t what he’d thought, and because of that, was now strictly off limits.
“He’s not off limits,” Charles said when Mitch reiterated it now. “You’re denying yourself based on some crazy idea that you can spend your life alone without consequences. I’m aging, Mitch. I won’t be here but another twenty-one years. Morgan doesn’t live here, and your uncle will begin his aging process in another ten. Who’re you going to spend your time with then? It’s not healthy to be alone like that.”
Mitch shrugged. “Maybe I’ll go to New York. Let Katherine assign another reaper family to this town when I can’t stay anymore without people talking about my age.”
“What difference does location make?” Charles asked kindly. “You’ll still be denying yourself companionship. You have to let people in, Mitch. It’s the only way.”
Mitch thunked his head against the espresso maker. “This pain is better than the pain of losing someone after loving them for their lifetime. Ask Nate. I bet he’d tell you. Hell, his sister would tell you if she could. Why else would she be hanging on so hard?”
“I’ve done some research in the last few days about ghost attachments, because last week all I had were guesses and speculation. It turns out their situation is more rare than I first realized. In the history I was able to find in reaper logs, only three instances of ghost-to-human attachments have ever been made, and those were all due to circumstances similar to Nate’s: twins violently separated. However, even Nate’s situation is unique, because they’re the only fraternal twins to have formed that strong a bond. But all of them were separated by violent deaths.”
“How long did the ghosts stay connected?” Mitch asked, hating himself for being curious. It wouldn’t matter anyway.
“It varied. One was connected until the surviving twin passed away, and the other two weren’t documented well. The reapers who reported those situations broke the code of silence, thinking they were speaking to other reapers. Divinity intervened. The reapers who’d spoken to them were erased from the surviving twins’ memories, and the reapers were moved to other locations to avoid a repeat. Whether or not Divinity kept an eye on the twins wasn’t detailed in the reports I read.” Charles put a warm hand on Mitch’s shoulder, squeezing. “All I know is, while you were seeing him, I’ve never seen you happier. Some people are worth the pain of losing if the lifetime in the middle is everything you’ve ever wanted. To say nothing of the joy they get to experience knowing you. You’re worth loving, son, even if you don’t think so. Maybe she can still be shown her door, if you can find a way to move her connection from him to you and help her. Don’t give up hope.”
Mitch swallowed against the lump in his throat, straightening and continuing where he’d left off cleaning the machine. Tate’s connection to her brother wasn’t the problem. Other than it being kind of awkward when he and Nate had been intimate, Mitch wasn’t really bothered by her presence. It wasn’t like she could interfere with their dates. There won’t be any more dates because there’s no more us!
After a few moments, Charles must have realized he wouldn’t be getting a response out of Mitch, so he moved off to count down the register, leaving his son to ponder how fucked up things had gotten so quickly.
The next several days weren’t all that great, but at least his father left him alone. It appeared the Divinity Scheduling Department, those who assigned him reaps, took his needing to keep busy into account, because he had two back to back, and one wasn’t even his department. The first was for a mid-fifties woman afflicted with cancer. He gained access to her home by pretending to be a new employee at the hospice facility, and the existing hospice care nurse didn’t question it. The dying woman’s soul had been beautiful, so bright he nearly couldn’t look at her while she butterflied kisses t
o her family’s foreheads, wearing such an expression of peace and love, it nearly tore him to shreds. Luckily, her door came almost immediately, and he hadn’t had to explain how the afterlife worked. He stayed long enough to see her body taken away and convey his condolences to her family as they cried and clung to each other, whispering assurances she was loved and happier wherever she’d gone. After he made it to his car to return to the bookstore, he was overcome with such sadness at being on the outside looking in, never to experience the kind of relationship the woman had had with her husband, he couldn’t drive right away. His hand twitched toward his phone to call Nate, to apologize, tell him it was a mistake walking away, that he would give anything to have, even for a small portion of his life, a chance at such a connection.
However, the phone dinged, and instead of calling Nate, he checked his email to find another reap. This time, it was for a girl of twenty-two. Mitch followed her from her parents’ house after overhearing a screaming match between them. She wanted to meet the boyfriend who was also her dealer, so he assumed he’d be handling a drug overdose. Her parents shouted she’d only just returned from rehab and had to get rid of the people in her life who were bad for her. She said that’s why she needed to see him, to tell him they were officially over.
Unfortunately, it was a lie, and as soon as they shared a too-intimate-for-public kiss on the sidewalk outside the sporting goods store where he worked, they snuck into a nearby alley, where she blew him, and he promised a syringe as reward. When the girl passed out and stopped breathing, the boyfriend panicked, and Mitch swooped in with an offer to help him transport her to the hospital. At the last minute, the boyfriend bailed, babbling something about how he couldn’t have the cops sniffing around and disappeared back to work, leaving Mitch to explain when he reached the hospital and called for help.
The police weren’t convinced Mitch was an innocent bystander, given he hadn’t called 911, but Mitch had learned quickly to be in the presence of authority as little as possible. He could have left her body in that alley and saved the trouble, but he didn’t have that kind of callousness in him. His only option was to throw the boyfriend under the bus. The police immediately went to the boyfriend’s workplace and corroborated Mitch’s story. Finding the boyfriend’s stash and hauling him off to jail effectively cleared Mitch. Not that Officer Wes Cooley didn’t smell something going on.
