Chapter One

"Ghosting, Ghosts, and Other Nonsense"

Tabitha

I was done with dating. Completely, irrevocably done.

Not the "I'll take a break for a few months" kind of done. No, this was the type of done where you seriously consider deleting every dating app, buying a lifetime subscription to Netflix, and living vicariously through other people's love lives on reality TV. The kind of done where the mere thought of putting on a cute dress and smiling through yet another awkward first date makes you want to crawl under a blanket and stay there for a solid week.

Yep, that's where I was.

Sweetberry Hollow didn't help much either. On the surface, the town looked like something out of a Hallmark movie—cobblestone streets, cozy little shops with hand-painted signs, trees that exploded into vibrant shades of orange and red every fall. It was the type of place where you'd expect to bump into your soulmate while sipping pumpkin spice lattes at the local café, sharing a cute "meet-cute" moment as perfect gold leaves danced in the crisp autumn air.

But anyone who actually lived here knew better. Sweetberry Hollow might have looked charming, just like any other quaint small town, but it had a weird side—a spooky side. The kind of weird where people actually believed the ghost stories they told…And they told them a lot! You couldn't go anywhere in town without hearing about someone's house being haunted or seeing someone post about a strange figure spotted at the edge of the woods. To the tourists, it was all fun and games. They came for the ghost tours and haunted house attractions, hoping for a thrill or a chill in the picturesque New England fall. But for those of us who lived here, the constant supernatural talk was rather exhausting.

That was part of the reason I'd opened The Lantern & Lore , my little slice of sanity in this otherwise paranormal-obsessed town. The bookstore was cozy, tucked away in a quieter part of town, with creaky floorboards and shelves full of dusty old books on everything from gothic fiction to rare occult tomes. I didn't believe in ghosts or curses or any of the other nonsense Sweetberry Hollow thrived on, but I did love the stories. And that's what I sold—stories.

The bookstore had been my escape ever since I took it over from Marian Everett, a prickly old lady who had run the shop for decades before deciding to retire and move to Florida. The store had been in rough shape back then, with a dwindling customer base and shelves that hadn't seen new books in years. But I'd breathed new life into it, turning it into a cozy haven for book lovers and spooky-story enthusiasts alike. I'd leaned into the town's supernatural reputation just enough to keep the tourists coming, without letting it overrun my life.

It was my safe space. The one place I had control over.

But even The Lantern & Lore couldn't protect me from the horrors of modern dating.

Enter Casper Thorne.

I'd met him on Bump , the dating app I'd only downloaded after my best friend Daphne Moonflower had insisted the universe was trying to send me a sign. Daphne was all about signs and vibes and the universe aligning things just right. She worked at Moonlit Mystics , the metaphysical shop owned by her eccentric aunt Esme, and she was always pushing crystals, tarot cards, and essential oils on me like they were the solution to every problem. "You just need to trust the process, Tabitha," she'd say, as if the universe really gave a damn about my love life.

So, against my better judgment, I downloaded Bump . And that's when I matched with Casper.

From the moment we started chatting, I felt something different. He wasn't like the other guys I'd been on dates with—the ones who spent the entire time talking about themselves or worse, rambling on about Sweetberry Hollow's paranormal "hotspots." Casper was calm, cool, and grounded. His profile wasn't flashy either. It was just a few pictures of him working—photographing old, abandoned buildings, the kind of places that had stories of their own hidden in the cracks of the walls. In one shot, he was laughing, sunlight streaming through a broken window behind him, and I remember thinking that he looked real. Not fake. Not posing. Just… him.

Then there was the way he looked. Hot as hell.

Casper had this natural, rugged sexiness that didn't seem intentional, which, of course, made it even hotter. His hair was a perfect match for Prince Charming's shade of blonde, messy in that perfectly tousled way that looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, but somehow it worked. And those green eyes? They could melt you with just a glance. He wasn't the over-the-top gym-junkie type, but he was lean and strong in a way that made you notice. His work as a freelance travel photographer combined with his love of the outdoors had him constantly hiking and climbing, and his athleticism definitely showed.

We went on three dates. Three perfect dates.

The first one was at The Bean Stalk Café , the most charming spot in Sweetberry Hollow. Jack and Rosalind Whittaker owned the place, and they'd turned it into something out of a fairytale—wooden beams wrapped in ivy, lanterns casting a soft glow, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of Rosalind's signature pastries. Jack loved to tell new customers that their "magic bean latte" was life-changing, and honestly, it kind of was. Casper seemed to love the place, and the conversation flowed so easily between us. We talked about everything—books, travel, art, life. It was one of those dates where you don't realize how much time has passed until you notice the café is closing.

The second date was more adventurous. Casper took me to an old, abandoned church on the outskirts of town—one of those places you wouldn't even know existed unless someone showed you. The building was half-hidden by overgrown trees, its stone walls crumbling, and its windows long shattered. Casper spent the afternoon photographing it, talking about how the light filtering through the cracks told its own story. I'm not usually one for artistic speeches, but the way he talked about it made sense. He even convinced me to allow him to take some shots of me posing under the stained-glass windows. He saw beauty in things that were falling apart, and that resonated with me.

By the time our third date rolled around, I was already hooked. We went out for dinner at a small Italian place just outside of Sweetberry Hollow. It was intimate, cozy, with dim lighting and candles flickering on the table. We talked about our dreams, our fears, our pasts. Casper told me about how he'd grown up moving from place to place, never really having a home, which was part of the reason he'd become a photographer—he liked capturing the stillness of things that had been abandoned. There was something deeply personal in the way he shared that with me, and I felt like we connected on a level I hadn't experienced with anyone in a long time.

But it wasn't just the emotional connection. The physical connection between us was just as electric.

After dinner, we ended up back at my apartment. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were tangled in the sheets. And God, it was good. Better than good—it was practically otherworldly.

I'm not one to get overly sentimental about sex, but with Casper, it was different. I've always been a bit self-conscious about my body. I'm short—petite, some might say—with curves that have a mind of their own. And my hair? Don't even get me started. It's long, messy, and a nondescript shade of brown that frizzes out of control, especially in the damp fall air. No matter how many products I use, it's always a frizzy, tangled mess. But with Casper, all of that melted away. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world, like he couldn't get enough of me.

And in bed? Let's just say it was the kind of sex that leaves you breathless. His hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of my body, and the way he touched me—like he knew exactly what I needed—it drove me wild. He was gentle when he needed to be and intense when it mattered most. It was like he could read my body, responding to every moan, every gasp, until we were both completely lost in each other.

Afterward, we lay there, his arm draped over me as if he never wanted to let go. He kissed my forehead, whispered my name—Tabitha—and in that moment, everything felt right. I thought I'd finally found something real.

And then…he ghosted me.

No texts. No calls. No explanation. Nothing. Just gone.

At first, I tried to rationalize it. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was traveling for work and didn't have cell service. But as the hours turned into days, it became painfully clear—I'd been ghosted.

At first, I tried to tell myself it was fine. We'd had a great time, sure, but I wasn't that invested. Right? I had my bookstore, my friends, my life. But the silence from him gnawed at me, pulling me back to the memory of his touch, his laugh, his hands on me. The way we connected wasn't something you just forget.

I spent two days checking my phone every five minutes like a complete idiot. Nothing. Not even a "hey, sorry, been busy!" or a casual, "had a great time, but I'm just passing through."

It was radio silence.

And the worst part? I couldn't stop thinking about how good it had been with him. How everything about our time together had felt right—from the effortless conversation to the way his lips had brushed over mine like he couldn't get close enough. How could someone vanish after that? Was I really that out of touch with reality? Because I'd started to believe we had a real connection—one of those rare, all-encompassing kinds.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor. I was sure of it. Ghosted. By a guy literally named Casper. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but it wasn't funny. It hurt.

So here I was, two days post-ghosting, lying on my couch, wrapped in a blanket, trying to pretend I wasn't bothered. The TV was playing some murder mystery in the background, but I wasn't really watching it. My phone was sitting on the coffee table, and I refused to pick it up again. I'd already gone through the embarrassment of checking it too many times.

Popcorn kernels littered the couch, a half-eaten bowl sitting in my lap, as I tried to convince myself that I didn't care. "You're better off," I muttered to myself. "Just another guy who couldn't handle Sweetberry Hollow."

It wasn't helping.

I threw the blanket over my head, groaning into the fabric, wishing I could just disappear for a while. Why did it always end like this? Why was it that every time I started to believe in something, it slipped through my fingers?

Earlier that day, Daphne had tried to cheer me up. She was good at that, sensing when I was spiraling. She had dragged me into Moonlit Mystics after closing hours, made me sit while she shuffled her tarot deck, and burned some sage to "clear the energy."

"Maybe the universe is clearing out the bad energy to make space for something better," she'd said, flipping over the Three of Swords card like it was no big deal.

I'd snorted. "The universe can clear space by sending me a guy who doesn't vanish after mind-blowing sex."

Daphne had just smiled knowingly, her soft honey-brown eyes twinkling with that look she always gave me when she thought she knew something I didn't. She'd handed me a smoky quartz crystal and told me to keep it by my bed. "For clarity," she'd said with a wink.

Now, two days later, I was still waiting for that clarity. And if the universe had any messages for me, they were clearly lost in translation.

The lights in my apartment flickered, snapping me out of my brooding.

I sat up, frowning. "Seriously?" I muttered to myself. "A power outage now?"

But it wasn't just the lights. The air in the room shifted too—cooler, like someone had opened a window and let the crisp October air in. A chill crawled up my spine, making me pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The TV was still on, but I could barely focus on it. It was late, past the time I usually went to bed, and I was bone-tired after working a busy day at the bookshop, but something still felt… off.

And then I heard it.

" Tabitha… "

I froze, my heart skipping a beat.

The voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was unmistakable. My name. Clear as day.

I looked around the room, my pulse racing. "Hello?" I called out, because apparently I had a death wish and wanted to make all the classic horror movie mistakes.

No answer. Just the hum of the TV and the flickering lights overhead.

" Tabitha… "

This time, the voice was closer, clearer.

I slowly stood up, the blanket slipping off my shoulders as I scanned the room. My heart pounded in my chest, and my breath came out in short, shaky bursts. I was losing it. I had to be. Too many ghost stories, too many creepy murder mysteries, too much popcorn. That was the only explanation.

But then I saw him…

Casper.

Standing in the middle of my living room.

Or more accurately, floating.

I blinked. Once. Twice. But no matter how many times I blinked, he didn't disappear. There he was—Casper Thorne—standing, or more accurately, floating in front of me, semi-transparent, his golden-blond hair still perfectly tousled, his green eyes still intense. Only now, his whole body was glowing with this faint, ethereal light.

"Hey," he said casually, as if this was a perfectly normal situation. As if he wasn't currently defying every law of nature by standing there like some kind of sexy ghost.

"What the actual hell?" I managed to sputter, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

He floated a little closer, his expression sheepish. "Yeah…about that…"

"You ghosted me. Literally. And now you're an actual poltergeist?" I took a step back, running my hands through my wild, frizzy hair, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to leave you on read," he said, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous. Only this time, his hand passed through his neck in a way that shouldn't have been possible.

I blinked again, trying to keep my voice steady. "So, what? You died and decided to haunt me?"

Casper winced. "I wouldn't say haunt. More like…I need your help."

"Help with what?" I asked, incredulous. "Crossing over? Finishing your unfinished business? Oh God, please don't tell me I'm part of some weird cosmic love story. I really don't want to star in a real-life gothic time travel romance."

He floated lower, his feet almost touching the ground. "Nope, no gothic time travel romance. I just…I want to come back to life. And I need your help to do it. That's all."

I stared at him, my mind racing to catch up with the absurdity of the situation. Casper Thorne—my best-sex-ever date, the guy who had vanished without a word—was standing in my living room asking me to help him come back from the dead like asking to borrow a book.

"This isn't happening," I whispered, more to myself than to him, my hands trembling as I gripped the back of the couch.

Casper hovered in front of me, his expression soft, almost apologetic, but still carrying that casual nonchalance that made me want to scream. "Look, I know it's a lot to take in, but I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."

"Important?" I repeated, incredulity creeping into my voice. "Casper, you're dead, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah, I know," he said, floating a little lower as if to ground himself. "Believe me, this wasn't part of my plan. But right now, I'm asking for your help."

"I can't…" I shook my head, my voice faltering. My hands found their way to my wild hair, tugging on the tangled mess as if that would somehow pull me back to reality. "This isn't real. None of this is real. You can't just… show up like this and expect me to…"

Casper cut in, his green eyes locking onto mine with a quiet intensity that made my heart stutter. "I'm running out of time, Tabitha. I had nowhere else to turn, or you have to believe me, I wouldn't have bothered you. The last thing I wanted was to get you involved in this mess."

My pulse quickened, my mind spinning.

I took a shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"I need to come back," Casper said, his voice steady. "I don't know exactly how yet, but I know I can't do it alone. You're smart and resourceful. You're the only one who might have what it takes."

I stared at him, feeling a mix of anger, confusion, and fear swirl inside me. This wasn't just a random apparition showing up on my doorstep—this was Casper. The man who had disappeared without a word. The man I thought I had connected with, on every level. The man I'd…started to fall for. And now he was back. Wanting me to do him a favor.

"You ghosted me," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them, my voice tight with frustration. "Remember? And now you want my assistance? After you just…poof, left me hanging like an old leaf waiting to fall from a tree?"

He winced, guilt flickering across his face. "I didn't mean to. I swear. I liked you, Tabitha. I really did. But…something happened. Something I didn't see coming."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. "You can say that again."

"Yeah," he said, his tone softer now, almost regretful. "And now I need your help to fix it."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. My mind was racing, my heart pounding in my chest. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Maybe this was all just some weird dream brought on by Daphne's tarot reading. And yet…

I closed my eyes, willing myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

When I opened them again, he was still there. Floating. Glowing faintly, waiting for my response.

"I…I need time," I said, my voice shaky. "I need to wrap my head around this."

He nodded, his expression softening. "I understand."

But the tension in his voice didn't escape me. There was something else. Something he wasn't telling me.

"Casper," I said, my voice firmer now, though my heart still raced. "What aren't you telling me?"

His eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite read. "Well, um…see, there's a deadline," he admitted. "I don't have a lot of time. Halloween…it's coming. And if we don't figure this out by then, I'm gone for good."

My stomach twisted. Halloween was less than a week away.

"Oh my God. I…I need to think," I whispered, my mind buzzing with a thousand thoughts. This was too much, too fast. I needed to get my bearings.

Casper hovered in front of me. "Okay, I get it. Take your time. But just…please don't take too long, okay?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't ready to make a decision. Not yet. All I knew was that everything I thought I knew about the world had just been flipped upside down.

Without another word, I turned and walked to the kitchen, needing some distance from him, from this whole insane situation. My hands were shaking as I grabbed a glass of water, my breath coming in uneven bursts.

I stared into the glass, watching the water ripple, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

This wasn't real.

It couldn't be.

Or could it?