Chapter 11

eleven

B riar

I reach for Rowan’s hand.

“Are you sure you don’t mind skipping out on your usual Halloween tradition? I hate that you’re missing out on handing out all that candy.”

The brief nap we took was interrupted by a text from Esme. When she explained what she needed, my heart went out to her. Of course, I’d be there for her. And, for interrupting my time with Rowan, she added that I could bring Rowan with me to the castle.

I had fully intended to say goodbye to Rowan for the night, but he insisted on coming with me.

And now, we’re winding through the brightly colored woods in Rowan’s truck, on our way to Esme.

Rowan raises my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles sweetly. “I wouldn’t want to spend Halloween night with anyone else but you. Or any night.”

My stomach flip-flops. The man has a way of dropping anything to help me, making me feel like the only girl in the world.

I’m going to miss this when my internship is over.

When we arrive at the castle, the gate is already open for us.

Frye puffs out his chest when he sees us enter the foyer. “What is he doing here?”

From behind me, Esme’s voice responds.

“He is a guest in my house. For Halloween night. I expect you to be on your best behavior, Frye.”

He mutters something like “if you insist,” before slinking off in the direction of the kitchen.

Ironic that two days ago, he took great pains to tell me that I must dress for dinner, while today, Esme has insisted that we come exactly as we are. The kitchen staff has prepared roast chicken and pumpkin curry soup, followed by a dessert that I can’t pronounce. It sounds French, tastes concerningly like flowers, and I’m not sure how to eat it.

“You might like the dessert better in part two of Halloween night,” Esme says.

Frye, who’s been overseeing dinner service, only scowls, then, thankfully, makes himself scarce.

At Esme’s request, the three of us stay up late and have, weirdly, the best sleepover that ever was on Halloween night. After dinner, we pop popcorn, drink hot cocoa, and scarf down Reese’s pumpkins. We each choose the best not-scary Halloween-themed episodes of our favorite shows. For Rowan, it’s a Parks and Recreation deep dive into “Greg Pikitis.” For me, it’s the Office episode where at least three characters dress up as The Joker. Esme doesn’t know what to pick, since she’s not had much experience with watching television.

“I don’t mean to be offensive, but what exactly do you do with your time when you don’t leave the house?” I ask.

Esme shrugs. “Mostly read biographies. Research family histories. I do a lot of online shopping. And, of course, Frye has my schedule packed pretty tight, as you know. You pick something for me.”

Awash in sympathy for her unique situation, I stick to comedy.

“In that case, I have to introduce you to Modern Family,” I say. Esme laughs so hard at Mitchell’s attempts to hide his Spiderman suit at the law firm that she sprays lukewarm cocoa out of her nose. I consider that a win.

Midnight approaches—the real reason Esme wanted me to come over. Maybe even the entire reason she wanted an intern in the first place.

When she texted me earlier today, she said that every year on Halloween, she is awakened by ghosts.

Now, as someone who unequivocally does not believe in ghosts, I can say that’s definitely not what’s going on here.

Whatever is haunting her will remain a mystery, but I don’t mind spending time with her.

But first, the three of us have to decide on sleeping arrangements.

“You two, take my bed,” she says, spreading out a blanket on the floor.

“Absolutely not,” Rowan says. “What kind of man would I be to let a woman sleep on the floor? Ladies, you take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Rowan, you’re my guest. I can’t possibly let you…”

But he’s already spread out on the floor, tucking the blanket up under his chin and letting out a big, fake yawn. “Just as I thought. Much more comfortable than the beds at the station.” Such a dork, and I love him.

Wait. I love him?

Heck, maybe I do. Rowan is the kindest, gentlest, and most selfless person I’ve ever met. I can see him running into a burning building, rescuing kittens from trees, diving into the lake to rescue a helpless swimmer. It’s written all over him in the way he treats people, and I love that about him.

Most of all, he treats everyone the same, yet he makes me feel like the only woman in the world whenever I’m around him.

How could I keep looking after this?

After Esme is tucked into bed, I make the rounds and turn out the lamps one by one. Then I hop into bed on the side closest to where Rowan sleeps.

And we wait for the whispers. The quiet scratches.

But the only sounds that fill the room are that of our sleepy conversation. I lie on my side and wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness until I can make out the shape of Rowan on the floor.

“You guys are awesome for doing this,” Esme says dreamily.

“Hush. It’s no trouble. We’ve had fun, haven’t we, Rowan?”

“Yep,” my firefighter murmurs, his voice creaky with tiredness.

After a few minutes, Esme’s breathing evens out.

“She’s asleep,” I whisper in the dark.

“We did good,” Rowan says.

I quietly chuckle. “Why does it sound like we’re parents who just successfully put their baby down for a nap?”

He laughs softly. Something bumps the side of the bed, and after it startles me, I realize that Rowan’s hand is searching for mine.

I slide my hand off the side of the bed and let him find me. He holds my hand and squeezes it.

“We make a good team,” he says.

I’m not sure at what time I ended up on the floor cuddled against Rowan’s chest. It was after I got up to pee. When I padded back to the bed, he was lying there asleep, so solid and comfy looking. I had to curl up next to him. He thumped his arm around me, kissed the top of my head, and mumbled something.

“Hm?”

He must have been talking in his sleep because I heard him slur the words, “I love you, B.”

I lay awake with a dopey grin for hours, happily covering the night watch for my friend.

The next morning, I wake up to Esme shaking me. Her eyes are shining, and she smiles from ear to ear.

“What? What is it? What did I miss?”

“It’s done,” she says. “The ghosts. They didn’t come back.”

I have to shove the still-sleeping Rowan’s arm from over my middle so I can sit up straight and have a face-to-face conversation with Esme.

His gentle snoring continues.

“You didn’t hear anything last night?”

Esme shakes her head. “Not a thing. I think you scared them away.”

The fact that I don’t believe in ghosts is irrelevant.

“I’m so glad,” I say. “I’m glad you got some good sleep. Hopefully, this will set you on the right path.”

“Having a friend after all these years alone did the trick,” she says.

Oh boy, I really don’t do well with sappy friendship stuff, but I know Esme needs to have this moment. “I’m glad we’re friends too,” I say. Gee. That didn’t feel cheesy at all. Or insincere. Not in the least.

Rowan rolls onto his back, his arm flopping over his chest. His mouth agape, he lets out another snore.

Esme and I look at him, then look back at each other and crack up.

It really does feel like whatever has been haunting Esme has stopped.

I look at the sleeping Rowan, and my heart aches at the sight of my sleepy, silly, one-track-minded, wonderful boy.

I have so much to be thankful for.

I wish I could stay past the New Year, but I need the credits next semester. And this internship is a critical part of one of my final research papers.

But no matter what happens, I know I’ll leave here with a new friend and a boyfriend.

Long-distance relationships are complicated. They rarely last.

Rowan’s hand reaches for me as he dozes. His snoring quiets down when I fit my fingers through his.

I wouldn’t count us out just yet, no matter what people say.

Something tells me we’re going to make it.