by Cameron Dane
But it was.
Before Maddie’s eyes, on the rattan couch where she’d napped and laughed and played cards and eaten and watched movies with Wyn hundreds of times, Wyn now sat with his shirt off, head thrown back against the cushions, and his pants bunched at his knees. So much worse, a curvy blonde with her skirt hiked up to her waist and her top and bra shoved up to her armpits, held onto Wyn’s shoulders and rode him like a cowgirl trying to stay on her bucking bronco.
This isn’t happening. No. God. Please no. Choking on tears, robbed of her voice, Maddie kept shaking her head, but this woman continued to bounce on Wyn, screwing him. And he, holding her waist and looking into her eyes, fucked her back with focused thrusts, as if jabbing himself into her just right would win him a prize.
Unable to look away, Maddie watched, and her world crumbled away around her, leaving her in pieces, her nose against the glass, numb and paralyzed.
Standing in the cold in a black bra and panties with green ribbons on them—Wyn’s favorite color—Maddie didn’t think her life could get any worse. Then Wyn reached up, pulled the blonde’s face down to his and kissed her with tender passion, and the blade in Maddie’s chest ripped through her gut and spine, tearing her apart. Why? Why? Please don’t. Don’t do this to us. But Wyn kissed the woman again, and she touched his hair and kissed him back, and Maddie finally screamed, the sound high and tight and stripped bare, an inhuman cry cutting through the night sky.
The girl turned to look at Maddie fast, suddenly frozen on top of Wyn. In slow motion, as if coming out of a trance, Wyn looked her way. Recognition flared in his eyes, and his lips parted, but Maddie’s screams echoed in her head, drowning out all other sound. No. No. No. No. No. She couldn’t bear the gazes of either one of them on her; they cut into her like shards of glass, unbearably sharp pain. Wyn began to lift his arm, and like lightning Maddie kicked off her ridiculous heels and ran for her truck, desperate to get away, knowing whatever he attempted to say or do right now would kill her. Her chest seizing with sharp squeezes, Maddie opened the driver’s side door, jumped in, and slammed it shut. The tail of her coat got caught in the door, but she ignored the way it pulled her to the side and started the truck. She sped out of the driveway in reverse, shoved into drive, and stepped on the gas, everything around her a cloudy blur, only the road in front of her clear.
Not looking back once, her heart squeezing for reasons so much darker than the romance and loving anticipation that had filled it minutes ago, Maddie ran a stop sign and careened left, barreling at breakneck speed away from town. She didn’t dare go home. If Devlin had cut his date short, as he so often had a tendency to do, she would have to face him. With one look he would know she was shattered inside, and with his next breath he’d demand to know what had happened and who he had to kill. Maddie couldn’t risk him—anyone—learning the truth. She would never let anyone know how stupid and blind she was for falling in love with Wyn Ashworth, and how he’d so easily played her for a fool.
Another racking sob tore through Maddie, bruising her insides anew, but she kept tight hold of the steering wheel and continued speeding down the darkened single lane road, her fingers gripping the circle of steel covered in polyurethane and worn-down leather the only thing keeping her tethered to this earth right now.
After long minutes of driving, her face covered in tears, Maddie guided her vehicle into the parking area in front of the garage. Pocketing the key, she climbed out of the truck while digging into her coat pocket for a simple key ring that held her apartment key and the two keys to the garage—the latter recently entrusted to her by Mr. Corsini for all her hard work and dedication to the shop, along with an offer to teach her everything she needed to know about managing a business.
Maddie let herself into the building, punched in the code to turn off the alarm, and flipped on all the lights. In varying degrees, overhead lights popped and crackled and blinked before eventually coming on, illuminating the large open space with harsh washes of light. A new Chevy Malibu and an old Audi 5000 were in place for standard service work to be done on them tomorrow, something familiar that calmed her breathing. Maddie ran her hand along the bodies of each one on her way to the back of the garage, where a broke-down street-legal Indy car a customer had found on the Internet and purchased sight unseen sat waiting to be refurbished. Once a sporty blue and white with a custom-made chassis, the race car had seen a few accidents and had suffered from over two decades of neglect. Corsini’s customer—her customer, Maddie had developed a great relationship with Mr. Courtland over her years of working at the garage—had challenged Maddie to bring the beauty back to life. And I intend to do it.
Maddie shrugged out of her jacket with the intent to put on her coveralls, but the moment she saw herself reflected in one of the glass office windows—so much shimmery skin covered in only a skimpy bra and panties with the bows, and stocking with snags now running up to her left knee—everything Maddie had seen tonight slammed back into her and exploded the volcano within, the hot lava of betrayal scorching her flesh and bones.
Her legs turning to jelly, Maddie collapsed into a bundle on the cold concrete floor, an ugly wailing cry spilling out of her once again. Fast-moving 3D high-definition images of Wyn and that woman having sex assaulted her brain behind her closed eyes, their loud and lusty sounds as they fucked faster and harder to the highest points of passion, which then morphed into Wyn laughing and pointing, and Maddie whispering brokenly, “No, no, no.” But the pictures wouldn’t go away. Freezing, Maddie wrapped her arms around her waist, and she rocked in place and shook her head, over and over, and all through the tears pleaded that this evening hadn’t happened and wasn’t true.
But it was.
No. Please. Breaking down inside, Maddie cried and cried, exhausting muscles and limbs, her throat turning raw and sore. Huddled on her knees on the ground, she wondered how she would ever be able to face anyone again—with one look at her they’d all know—when suddenly a big, heavy piece of rough fabric was draped over her shoulders, covering her, stealing away some of the goose bumps mapping her skin. Maddie jerked her head out of hiding; her tear-filled gaze landed on Mr. Corsini, crouched next to her on the concrete, empathy and a lifetime of experience warming his eyes. He’d covered her with one of the work tarps, and he had a pair of coveralls clutched in his hands.
Maddie opened her mouth, but no excuse or explanation or plea would come out, only a squeak, and more wetness spilled down her cheeks.
“Come now,” Mr. Corsini said, his accent strong and thick and wonderfully familiar and comforting. He put his arm around her waist and guided her to her feet. “You go change,” he put the coveralls against her hand and closed her fingers around the material for her, “and then we will work. Work will make everything better.” Giving her a strong one-armed hug around her shoulders, he then nudged her toward the bathroom. “Go. You’ll see.”
In a fog, Maddie moved to the bathroom as instructed, numb on the inside. She let the tarp fall to the ground, shoved off the ripped silk stockings, and stepped into the coveralls. With each inch she pulled the fabric up her legs and thrust her arms into the sleeves, with each snap she secured in place, the uniform and the confidence she had when she wore it took over, and a peace came over Maddie. The tears stopped, the panic slid from her body, and she was able to look at herself in the mirror above the sink without wincing. The coveralls became Maddie’s armor. Impenetrable. Designed to keep her protected against the enemy.
If Wyn doesn’t want this, if he doesn’t want what we’ve been building for three years, then fine. Maddie would go back to how she’d behaved with him in the beginning, before she’d so boldly kissed him and admitted to having feelings for him. She would go back to treating him like the enemy. She would react to him as if he were the asshole jerk she’d once teased him about being. Because now she knew the truth. Now she knew he was that asshole. He was that jerk. And she was done being the idiot who was so blindly devoted to him. She was d
one thinking and dreaming about him night and day. She was done latching onto every sweet kindness he showed her, thinking that with her he was exposing the real Wyn, and that he was more than the flirt she’d always viewed him as before they’d become friends.
That Maddie, the girl she was from a half hour ago, that stupid, idiotic, naïve girl, she’d disappeared tonight. For good. She was dead. And nothing Wyn could say would ever bring her back to life.
With one last hard, unblinking look at herself in the mirror, Maddie found the tough little girl who’d lived through her brother disappearing without a word when she was just a kid, she unearthed the adolescent who’d struggled through isolation and loneliness in school, she brought to the forefront the teen whose father hadn’t cared enough to fight for her when she’d stubbornly said she wanted to stay with Devlin in Redemption, she set free the young woman who’d later learned of her mother’s betrayal of their family that had sent her brother away all those years ago; Maddie found that person inside and stiffened her spine. Once she no longer cowered and dipped her head in shame, Maddie did an about face and marched out of the bathroom, into the body of the garage.
She found an old pair of sneakers, shoved her feet into them, and strode over to Mr. Corsini, where he stood staring at the battered old Indy car. Almost shoulder to shoulder with him, she said, “Teach me even more. I want to know everything you know,” and crossed her arms in a mirror to his.
“Good girl.” With only the barest of acknowledgement of what he’d witnessed, Mr. Corsini gave her a conspiratorial wink. “This car,” he then shifted, whistling as he reached out and ran his hand along the sexy curves of the vintage race car, “she will take some finesse to restore. Let us discuss where we should begin.”
Refusing to give credence to the ache unbearably twisting her heart, Maddie listened carefully to each word of wisdom and knowledge Mr. Corsini imparted.
This garage would now be her whole world…
* * * *
…Tears over Wyn Ashworth that Maddie had successfully kept from falling for four long years streamed down her face in her garden now. And the spine she’d managed to keep stiff was arched like a bow, no longer holding her upright. She sat doubled over on the bench in the garden, reliving an untenable pain she hated knowing existed, hated accepting the power it meant Wyn still held over her. It means I still love him. Maddie shook her head, her face buried against her knees, but she knew the truth. I never stopped. Her head and body screamed a denial, the force of her internal denial so thundering it shook her physically where she sat. But her heart thumped a different tune, accepting the truth she’d pretended wasn’t so for so long. He’s been in my soul from the moment we met. Nothing will ever push him out.
Fingers suddenly, gently brushed in her hair. Maddie whipped her head up, prepared to tell Wyn to go fuck himself. She wouldn’t let him back in just because they’d finally had sex.
Instead, Maddie’s mouth held open mid-word, her curse dying on her lips. Wyn did not stand in front of her, touching her hair. Not at all.
It was the ghost.
Chapter 8
OH. MY. GOD.
Maddie sat on the bench in the garden, and in front of her stood the cloudlike transparent figure of a woman. With long brown hair, golden skin, the body shapely in a voluminous white sundress, the female apparition shimmered like moonlight reflecting off water, ethereal and lovely, not frightening at all.
This really is Mrs. Corsini. Up close, Maddie could finally see the ghost’s shadowy features well enough to link her to photos of the woman she’d looked at in passing a thousand times. Why is she still here? Maddie’s heart squeezed with the sudden thought that she might be looking for her husband. Does she understand he’s gone away?
The shape of the woman’s hand slid from Maddie’s hair to down her cheek, pausing before withdrawing her touch. Rather than the sensation of cold or even a crackle of electricity, Maddie’s cheek felt warm, as if touched by the loving hand of a friend. The spirit smiled softly and shook her head, and Maddie had the fleeting thought that the ghost had somehow read her mind.
Before Maddie could find her voice, the figure moved away, disappearing through one of the bush walls of the second half of the maze.
Crying out, “Don’t go,” Maddie leaped up and ran around the first bend in the maze, but the ghost was not there. Spinning on a dime, Maddie raced back to the center of the maze, jumped up on one of the benches, and on her tiptoes craned her neck to see over the top of the maze. Nothing. The ghost of Mrs. Corsini was no longer in the garden. Shoot. She’s gone.
Maddie started to drop her heels back to the bench seat, prepared to step down, when a blur of white beyond the garden caught her eye and had her back on her toes. On the other side of the garden, deep in the backyard, the ghost paused, looked back in Maddie’s direction, and then disappeared through the side wall of a shed.
What? Maddie jumped off the bench, hightailed it through the rest of the maze and pushed through the back gate to the other side, heading in the direction of the shed. Was Wyn right? Is there really someone squatting on my land? Once Maddie reached the structure, she paused with her hand on the door. Is Mrs. Corsini trying to expose the intruder to me?
Uncertain of who would be on the other side of the door, but hoping the spirit who had touched her cheek with such warmth only moments ago wouldn’t lead her into something dangerous, Maddie swung the door open wide and kicked her foot out to keep it from swinging back in her face. “Whoever is in here, I know self-defense!” She projected her voice as if on the stage in a theater rather than standing at the door to a shed. “I know how to put a person in the ground with my bare hands if I need to, I swear I do. Show yourself.” Reaching into the room, Maddie felt along the wall and flipped on the overhead light, casting walls of boxes into shadows. “Step out now and I’ll let you leave without saying a word to the cops.”
Nothing stirred in the fifteen-by-fifteen foot space, neither in voice or person. Without another word Maddie banged against the door hard with the flat of her hand, hoping the loud noise would shock someone into making a move and revealing themselves. Not even the peep of a bug or rodent broke the quiet of the night. The ghost did not stand or hover anywhere in sight either. Maddie was all alone.
Curious about why Mrs. Corsini’s spirit would lead her to a room that only held boxes, Maddie entered the shed and grabbed one of Nico’s old baseball bats propped against the nearest wall. Wielding it like a weapon, she poked at cardboard and peered around boxes stacked six high, double checking that her candy thief wasn’t still there. Otherwise Maddie couldn’t understand why the ghost would come to the shed. The structure was well-kept, but it just held boxes of family memorabilia Mr. and Mrs. Corsini had been saving to give to Nico when he got married and had kids, waiting for Nico to come claim it.
Nico’s old bat from his peewee days of baseball in her hand, Maddie looked around, frowning as she saw the piles of boxes in a new light. Does Mrs. Corsini want Nico to come get this stuff? Is she mad that Mr. Corsini left it behind? Is she mad I own the house and land but her family’s stuff is still here?
Maybe Maddie should call her old boss and tell him about the spirit haunting the house. No. Maddie’s stomach churned with the thought. If she did that, Mr. Corsini would surely come rushing back to Redemption. And if he knew his late wife’s ghost was hanging around the place, maybe he would even step away from his new marriage, leaving his new wife’s world spinning off its axis. That wouldn’t be fair or right. Mr. Corsini had grieved for many years, he’d not believed it possible to fall in love again. But then, after so many years, so late in life, he had. And the new Mrs. Corsini was a good woman. She loved and nurtured her new husband; she’d given him a second wind in his life and a desire to explore and learn new things. Maddie didn’t want to break up that new love, no matter how much her heart went out to the late Mrs. Corsini and her plight of being trapped between life and death as a ghost.
Sick t
o her stomach, Maddie looked around the contained space with fresh eyes, not only at the boxes but up into the rafters and along the walls, searching for a shadow or glow out of the norm. “Mrs. Corsini? Are you here?” Even though she didn’t see anything, Maddie still gulped hard. “If you want me to bring back your husband, I can’t do it. I’m sorry. Is that what you want?” Her mind racing through every paranormal investigation film and TV show she’d ever seen, both fictional and documentary, Maddie quickly added, “Tap one for yes and two for no.”
Maddie held her breath, waiting for the spirit’s response. Right then Wyn charged into the shed, arm out and gun aimed in one hand. He yanked Maddie behind him with the other. “Come out with your hands up, intruder.” Cutting authority rang in his deep tone. “I have the entire police department only seconds away. You cannot escape.”
Slumping against the doorjamb, Maddie covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God. Call them off. There isn’t anybody here.”
“I heard you talking to someone.”
Sighing, Maddie dropped her arms to her sides. “You can’t arrest a ghost. Call your colleagues off. Now.”
Clearly unwilling to accept her word, Wyn searched the shed on his own. When he came out from behind a line of boxes on the far side of the structure empty handed, he said, “I was bluffing.” His stance and features still looked dark and intractable even as he said, “There isn’t anybody on their way to your house.”
Relief swamped Maddie like a drug. “Thank God.”
Wyn, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt from earlier, set his gun on one of the boxes, crossed his arms against his chest, and laid an unblinking stare on her. “Tell me what happened.”
