“You…” I shake my head but can’t hide my grin “…are crazy.”
“Crazy good, right?” She turns on her heel and saunters home.
“Is crazy ever good?” I call after her.
“It’s the only kind of good. Night, Nate.”
CHAPTER SIX
Gracelyn
I could be off my game if I had one—which I don’t—so I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure Nate was flirting with me last week when Gabe stayed for dinner. However, if that were true, then he would have invited me to stay for dinner too … Right?
It doesn’t matter. That’s all I need to remember. Man ban. Who cares if he’s flirting? I have no desire to reciprocate. Well, that’s not true. I walked away swinging my ass like a pendulum. The accurate phrase is: I have no desire to be in a relationship ever again.
Three strikes.
I’m out of the game.
Death.
Cheating.
Chicken.
Sounds like a farmer going vegan. Nope. It’s the short story of my love life, which is a long story that’s stretched more than twenty years.
“Mind if I ask why you’re not married?” Mr. Hans pops a breakfast burrito into the microwave while I brew coffee and making scrambled eggs for Gabe.
“Unlucky at love.” I grin, stirring the eggs in the frying pan.
“Does that mean you’ve never been in love?”
“No. I’ve been in love three times.”
“And you’ve had your heart broken three times?” He takes his burrito out of the microwave and sits at the kitchen table by the window.
“You’d think so, but in hindsight, I’ve only truly had my heart broken once. Gabe!” I call up the stairs.
He runs downstairs, grabs his plate of eggs and toast, and runs back upstairs.
“Good morning to you too,” I murmur.
Mr. Hans chuckles at Gabe as I sit at the table with my coffee and buttered toast.
“Are you good at keeping secrets?”
“I think so.” He pauses his cutting motion and glances up at me.
“I hear dead people—well, just one. I hear a dead person. Or I used to. He’s been quiet lately, but it was hell on my love life.”
“If it’s Elvis Presley, you will have made my whole day.”
I grin. “Sorry to disappoint. Brandon Alan, my first and truest love. He died of a congenital heart condition when he was twenty-two. He spent his last year on the transplant list. No luck. I met him when he was eleven and I was ten.”
Mr. Hans grins and so do I.
“Yes. Gabe’s and Morgan’s age. Crazy, right?”
“I met my wife when we were not even old enough to crawl. Our mothers were best friends. It took me seventeen years to convince her I was her soul mate. Stubborn thing thought she had to date every guy but me just to make sure she wasn’t missing out on anything better. Can you believe that?”
I grin, knowing he has at least two toes sticking out of holes in his socks as we speak. “Unimaginable.”
“So this Brandon guy, you hear him?”
“Yes. Well, I haven’t in years, but I think it’s because I haven’t dated anyone in years. He only speaks to me when I’m in a relationship. And before you report me to social services as an unfit guardian for Gabe, let me just say that I know it’s not really his voice. It’s this leftover part of his spirit inside of me. It’s my conscience disguised as him.”
He finishes chewing and wipes his mouth with a hanky. I’ve noticed he uses a hanky for everything. “I like the scenario where his ghost is talking to you much better than you pretending that it’s not really his voice.”
A wry grin slides up my face as I tear my toast into small pieces, plucking them into my mouth with the same caution as my confession. “I like it too. It’s like he’s with me.”
“Margie doesn’t talk to me, but she said very few words even before she died. Looks … she gave me looks. Mostly death glares, but occasionally she smiled with pink cheeks, fluttering her eyelashes at me like she did when we were younger. How many people can say they’ve known the love of their life for their entire life? We were born one day apart, almost to the exact minute.”
I like this story. “Who’s older?”
“Well, I am of course. She died.”
I shake my head and grin. “You know what I mean.”
“She was one day older, and I never let the old bat forget it either.”
My face hurts from the size of my grin. “I love that. Brandon and I were crazy, and he was so ornery. Always playing jokes on me. Embarrassing me so much, but it was just us. He made me up my game, always finding a better revenge.” I sigh, letting my smile fade. “Just before he died, he said, ‘You win, Grace. Now go find another worthy opponent.’ Such a jerk. He just had to be awesome until his last breath, clearly making him the winner. And I think he damn well knew it. That was twenty years ago, and I still hear those words like an eternal echo.”