Page 18

“You’re right.”There’s an underground network of passing take-out of the other diner so people aren’t seen defecting.

People like Agnes, who’ve remained neutral in this feud, could make a fortune if they chose to charge for their services.

“But Bram… Going inside is different.” I make a show of giving him the same puppy eyes Bandit is a pro at wearing me down with.

His lips twitch, but when he clamps his hand on my shoulder and pulls me toward the door, I know I’ve lost. “Come on. I’ll protect you.”

He steps in ahead of me and I follow, keeping my head ducked low. Though trying to hide behind him won’t entirely work since I’m bigger and taller. I can only hope that my red plaid shirt helps me blend into the diner’s interior decor.

Bram greets Mickey Brewer, heir to Red’s Diner, and orders two shakes. I take out my phone and pretend to check messages, but the weight of Mickey’s stare is so heavy, I have to meet it. We nod at each other and I wonder if he’s thinking I’m defecting to Red’s side.

The narrow diner is busy, and I’m sure word I’m in here will travel.

The Maplewood blog has a section devoted to who saw who where.

Names are rarely used, but the descriptions leave no doubt about the subject’s identity.

Mine will probably say, a certain inn owner known for supporting Sparky’s was seen with a recently returned cryptid podcaster waiting at the counter inside Red’s .

Our townspeople are great, but they’re a gossipy bunch.

Hovering like Bram’s shadow, I will the milkshakes to arrive faster.

Finally, we have our frosty green drinks in hand, and I check that the coast is clear as I bolt outside.

Bram’s cheeks hollow as he sucks up a mouthful of milkshake, and his eyes shine with amusement, knowing exactly the good-humored chatter this will cause. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“My heart’s pounding like we just pulled off a diamond heist.” I grab his free hand and press it to the center of my chest so he can feel the beat. “If word gets back to Sparky’s, I don’t know how I’ll face Amos.”

His lips quirk into a smile. “Blame me. You were just accommodating an out-of-towner.”

“An out-of-towner I’d do anything for.” I squeeze his hand before releasing my hold.

“I like the sound of that.” Instead of lowering his hand, he fists the front of my shirt and hauls me in for a kiss. His lips and tongue are cold from the shake. The mint and his unique flavor have me going back for another taste.

This one is longer, and I don’t care that we’re on the busiest street in Maplewood, I’m taking any and all opportunities I get to kiss him.

His breath fluttering over my lips, Bram rests his forehead against mine. “Do you want to get the meatloaf special from Sparky’s so people won’t think you’re changing sides?”

“Yes.” I draw back enough to see his face clearly. “I knew you got it.” I give him a playful shove.

Smiling, he slides his hand down to clasp mine and pulls me onto the sidewalk.

Sparky’s is on Maple Street, only a few blocks from Red’s. As we walk, we point out Halloween decorations we like on shops and houses, and I get some ideas for what I could do to my place next year if I stop hosting the haunted house.

Bram’s phone rings as we reach the diner. He looks at the display. “It’s Finn.”

“Talk to him. I’ll go order our food.” Leaving Bram and the evidence that I’ve been at Red’s outside on the bench with him, I stride into Sparky’s and wave at the regulars.

Aqua is the dominant color here. It has an art deco style I’ve always been drawn to. Instead of the cooking happening behind the counter, like at Red’s, the kitchen is in a separate space.

I order two meatloaf specials and wait by the window. Amos is busy with a group of tourists, but he waves and smiles at me, so that’s a relief. Some days, news in Maplewood travels with lightning speed. But not today.

A couple waiting for their order near me gush about their visit to the haunted house last year. They tell me they’ve purchased tickets to our opening night next weekend for their entire friend group and how it’s their favorite event of all the Halloween festivities.

Outside, Bram still has the phone pressed to his ear. He ends his call as my food arrives, boxed and bagged, and I hurry out to meet him.

He hands me the milkshake before he stands then picks up his own off the wrought-iron bench.

I take a quick sip. “Thanks. What did he say?”

Falling into step beside me, Bram pockets his phone. “I’ll tell you, but first, did anyone mention your visit to Red’s?”

“No. I guess the gossip mill is a little slow today. Plus, Amos was busy, so maybe word didn’t reach him yet.” We pass the town hall, then cut through the public parking lot behind Harmonic Circus.

“That’s good. And when he does, he’ll have seen you in his diner mere minutes after your sighting at Red’s. It’s like you’ve balanced things out.”

“I hope so.”

Bram moves closer to me to skirt around the people entering the Playhouse. Two monster movies are advertised on their marquee. “Finn confirmed the hair samples look like deer, wolf, and bear.”

“That’s what you thought. What about the three heat signatures?”

“Two of them don’t look like animals, but they don’t look like people either.”

The inn comes into view. Another half block until I can lock out nosy neighbors and cuddle on the couch with my best friend and our dogs. I’m not sure how this is my life right now, but I’m enjoying every moment while it lasts. “That’s good, right?”

He shrugs. “It’s not bad. Just inconclusive.

It’s much better than the third heat signature.

He thinks that one was a person. I thought so too, but the swing of the arms looked off to me.

That’s why I sent it to him. We agree it was someone trying to look like they were something else.

” The disgust marring his features is clear.

I press a soft kiss to his cheek, his expression softening the way I intended, then pass him the bag of food so I can unlock the front door. “I don’t get why people would put time and energy into faking a sighting.”

“From what I’ve seen, the main reasons are doing it for attention or as a hoax.

For investigators of those sightings, both are a waste of time and resources.

” He follows me inside, holding the bag up as the dogs charge us in greeting.

“I can sort of understand the motivation behind someone doing it for attention. But what really pisses me off are the people who do it as a prank, regardless of whether they’re trying to be funny or malicious. ”

“Who wouldn’t be angry?” My voice soft, I bend down, giving the dogs love, then take the bag so Bram can do the same.

“That’s really what’s driving me to figure out the new cryptid sightings here. I don’t like seeing Agnes scared.”

We bring the food to the kitchen, and while I plate up our meals, Bram pours the dogs’ food into their bowls.

I put the remains of our milkshakes in the refrigerator and get glasses of water for us. “Are you still good with eating in the living room while we watch the episode?”

“The couch has my name on it. Plus, I want to see what you think about the show.”

We settle on the cushions, side by side, with our plates on the coffee table.

Bram navigates through the apps on the screen, then to his podcast channel, and the Mabel episode.

The dogs wander over to see what we’re up to, but both know better than to try stealing food.

Bandit climbs into Hades’s dog bed, and after wandering around the room, Hades plops himself onto Bandit’s bed, though his legs and head overhang it.

Bram places his phone beside his plate and opens it to the comments section of the video. His subscribers like the premiere option so people are watching it in real time together.

“Need me to hop on as comments moderator?” I grab my phone from the side table.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I don’t know if Charlie’s available tonight. I’ll delete trolls as I see them, but having two sets of eyes and hands are better.”

“No problem.” It’s something I’ve done for years, and has been a way of staying close to and supporting Bram.

He points at the top comment. “There’s one. We’re not wasting time arguing or trying to convince anyone, or let anyone insult my viewers.”

I delete the comment and block the user from the channel. “Done.”

“Thanks.” Rolling his shoulders, he leans into me.

“The ones who are so sure they’re right about cryptids not being real surprise me because scientists discover new species all the time.

And when you have an experience that can’t be explained, it makes you want to be on the forefront of the discovery, at least that’s true for me. ”

My stomach grumbles and I grab my plate, balancing it on one thigh and my phone on the other.

“I get it. Like learning that unicorns were actually rhinos, or goats and antelopes with one horn, or that what people thought of as unicorn horns were really narwhal tusks. Or that the bones attributed to dragons or giants were really dinosaurs. It’s not some gotcha moment when science disproves a myth or we learn better information. ”

“Exactly. Some people think the Loch Ness Monster is a plesiosaur.”

“‘Plesiosaurs are extinct Mesozoic marine reptiles, but what if some survived and are living in Loch Ness?’” I quote the opening line of his podcast on the subject.

Beaming a smile, he grabs hold of my hand. “You’re amazing. So supportive."

“I liked the story you sent me from your research trip there, when you talked of diving in that loch.”

“Then that story will be the one I tell you tonight. This summer, we can go to Scotland and look for Nessie together.” He cuts through the meatloaf with his fork, shoveling a piece into his mouth.

“That’d be fun.” Whether he means just the two of us or going as our annual vacation with the guys, I’m game.

He tugs on the hem of my shirt. “You’ll be in a land of tartan. So much plaid. You’ll fit right in.”

Laughing, I fling a fry at him. “Says the guy who’s lived in those plaid shirts since he arrived.”

Bram shrugs and smiles, stealing another fry from my plate. “You said I could.”

We turn our attention to the TV. On screen, Bram introduces himself and the episode, then he talks about the day he saw Mabel for the first time, and met me. There’s a photo of us as kids, taken that first summer, and then another, of us at Cryptid Night.

I bump our shoulders together, and keep contact by leaning into him. “When you told me about seeing Mabel the day we met, I believed you.”

He pauses the video and turns so we’re facing each other and his passionate gaze locks on mine. “You believed me immediately. Without question. Do you know how much that meant to me? You’ve always had my back.”

“Of course I do. You’re…” Mine . I swallow hard and try again. “You’ve had mine.”

“I always will.” His lips meet mine in a kiss so tender, I finally understand what people mean when they refer to a heart-melting kiss.

Leaning back with a smile, he presses play.

The story of the last time he saw Mabel, before he moved away, is heart wrenching.

I move my plate to the coffee table and cover my hand over his, holding him.

So much changed when he left, but I’m not sure I fully understood how much it affected him with my own grief at losing him consuming me at the time.

More Maplewood residents pop up on the screen to share their Mabel stories along with photos and jumpy home videos. Bram weaves them with tales from his research going back decades, and shares stories from those who were camera-shy.

It’s a wonderful episode and I’m so proud of him.

And later, when we’re lying on my bed and he finishes telling me about his time diving in Loch Ness, I show him how much.