Page 71 of After Life

“Or, you know, being afraid.”

“You keep calling me that,” I mumbled. “I’m not afraid.”

Ezra tugged my hair. “Everyone’s afraid, Oz. Some of us just sublimate it into being giant dorks and smoking weed with their lawyer boyfriend at fancy hotels. Or,” he tugged again, “their best friend who’s had more ghost encounters than he’s had hot meals.”

“We do lead wild lives,” I murmured. “Fuck, I thought I’d be able to just stay up till the sun was all the way up, but I don’t think I’m gonna make it. You going back to bed?”

He nodded. “I’m riding up with Harrison, so I should get my beauty rest.” He stood, tugging the duvet with him, smirking at my meeped protest. “Gotta stay pretty for my sugar daddy.”

“Oh my god...”

He cackled. “He’s not my sugar daddy.”

“I know just... don’t ever call him daddy where I can hear, yeah?”

Ezra smirked. “How about Sir?”

“I hate you. Go to bed.”

Ezra kissed me atop my head again and headed back into the suite, leaving the sliding door open a smidge.

It wasn’t until a third group—smaller this time—trundled into the convenience store and, a few minutes later, a cop car with lights flashing rolled up to park outside, that I went inside. Julian was half awake when I climbed into bed, rolling toward me with a half-snort, half-grunt as I snuggled against his chest.

“You’re cold,” he muttered. “And smell like weed.”

“Ezra.”

“Mm.”

I closed my eyes, finally feeling the soft tug of sleep creeping up on me, but Julian had one more question.

“So, when are we going?”

I didn’t bother to pretend ignorance. “January third,” I murmured. “Houston to Gatwick.”

He grunted again. “I need to make sure my passport is still good.”

I nodded. “You don’t mind that I assumed?”

“I’d have been mad if you hadn’t.”

We were quiet again, for a long time this time, before Julian murmured, “I’ve never been to a covered bridge before. I’m looking forward to this investigation.”

I smiled, burrowing closer. “I’m glad.”