Page 14 of The Love Bus

GHOSTS—PAST AND PRESENT

I t was called a ghost tour, I realized, because we were staying at the Stanley Hotel—yep, the one from The Shining . The one that was haunted. Allegedly.

Tay had disappeared right after dinner, for what she referred to as “Tay Time,” her sacred hour at the bar, to be interrupted only in the event of a life-or-death emergency.

That left us in the capable hands of the regular hotel staff, who guided us into the main lobby.

There, we broke into four smaller groups, each of which would be embarking on a separate tour, led by one of the Stanley Hotel’s official ghostly experts, which I couldn’t help but think was kind of cool.

Because, apparently, that was a real job.

My group was made up mostly of my dinner companions, but there were also a few strangers mixed in. Some looked genuinely excited. Others, like a couple of guys in hiking gear, looked like they were here purely to roll their eyes at the whole thing.

Then there was Noah Grady, who had returned from wherever he’d disappeared to and was now giving absolutely nothing away in his expression.

Which, I was beginning to realize, might just be his default setting. His resting nothing face. Because I honestly couldn’t tell if he was looking forward to this or counting the minutes until it was over.

And after that dinner, I couldn’t help feeling there was something just under the surface. Not from what he’d said—more from what he didn’t. The way he paused, or looked away, like certain thoughts were better kept to himself.

But I couldn’t imagine what that would be. I mean, he seemed to be doing pretty well for himself. He was educated, had a job that people respected, earning what had to at least be a comfortable income because, you know… doctor. He even had a good relationship with his mother…

Oh, uh...

Huh.

Suddenly, this list was starting to feel like more of a personal comparison, one I wasn’t sure I was ready to examine.

Regardless, Noah had rejoined his mom, and as he stood beside her, I couldn’t help but notice he was wearing a new pair of jeans, because I’d dumped water all over the last pair.

And practically given him a hand-job in my frantic attempts to dry him off.

No. No, I had not practically given him a hand-job. That was an exaggeration. A wildly inappropriate exaggeration.

Good gravy! Was I blushing?

He looked good though, in the new ones, with the way they hugged his— ahem —his assets.

Simmer down, Luna.

It was like parts of me were defrosting. Lady parts. Carnal parts that had been sitting in the freezer for a really long time. Had I ever felt this way around Leo? Intimacy between us had been…sweet. It had been comfortable.

Which was…understandable? Maybe this was just normal post-breakup reawakening. A reaction to being single after six years in a committed relationship. Hormones.

Proximity to hot annoying guys. Who even knew anymore?

“This is where it all started,” our guide announced, interrupting my internal TED Talk on my sexual reawakening.

I snapped back to the moment as Archie—our fit, silver-haired gentleman guide—gestured toward the grand staircase, its sweeping curve and polished banisters glowing under the soft chandelier light.

“Freelan Oscar Stanley, the hotel’s founder, grew up in Maine before coming to the Estes Valley over a century ago. He had become gravely ill with tuberculosis and, believing his end was near, he came here intending to die in a place of beauty.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement. Noah had reached for his mother’s hand, giving it a small, absent squeeze—almost protectively.

“But,” Archie continued, “he didn’t die. After just one summer here—breathing in the fresh mountain air—his health improved dramatically. And in 1909, he built this hotel—a bastion of luxury in what was, at the time, a remote mountain valley. It was also the first all-electric hotel in the world.”

I barely heard the last part.

Noah had already let go, his hand back at his side like nothing had happened. But for a brief moment, Mrs. Grady’s pinched expression softened. She didn’t look like the woman who spent most of the time throwing me cool glares across the aisle. She looked like…a mother.

The thought landed like a knot in my chest—but before I could begin dwelling on the guilt that came whenever I thought about my mom, the guide launched into more details about the hotel’s early electricity.

Babs, standing quietly beside me, leaned in just a little and murmured, “Distracting, isn’t he?”

I followed her line of sight. “You mean Ed?” I deadpanned, watching him whisper something into Eddie’s ear. “They are on their honeymoon.”

Babs gave a low, knowing chuckle. “Cute. But I wasn’t born yesterday.”

I just shrugged, dropping my gaze to the floor.

And then she added, “Remember, this is only partly about the tour. It’s mostly about the people you meet along the way.”

I glanced at her. “I know. I’ve met you, haven’t I?” In that moment, I meant it. Because even though Babs seemed to be around the same age as my mom, her free spirit, her open-mindedness, reminded me a little of Gran.

She grinned. “Exactly.”

Archie clapped his hands together. “Follow me upstairs, now, and you’ll soon learn about the ever-growing history and spirits that linger here together.”

One of the hikers let out an exaggerated ghostly wail as we climbed the carpeted staircase, earning a few chuckles from the group.

Archie, unfazed, led us along the dimly lit hallway, sconces casting soft gold light and exaggerated shadows across the walls.

When he paused near a room with a brass plaque, we instinctively clustered closer.

Babs had moved to Mrs. Grady’s side.

And somehow, Noah had ended up right beside me.

“You missed out on some pretty mediocre cheesecake,” I murmured, eyes still on the guide.

“Hmm…” His totally unilluminating response vibrated through me.

“Don’t you like cheesecake?”

“I like cheesecake.”

“So…?” I turned my head slightly. “Why would you just leave?”

We both knew this wasn’t about the cheesecake.

And even though it wasn’t like me to push… I pushed. “You seemed…upset. At dinner.”

He exhaled. “I was soaked.”

“So that’s why you left? Because of the water?”

He hesitated just long enough that I knew it wasn’t about the water either.

“It wasn’t exactly comfortable.”

“The conversation made you uncomfortable? Blood pressure meds and gallbladder stories?” I tried to keep it light, but I could feel I was edging too close.

His jaw flexed, and he looked straight ahead. “I’m just not… My job—It’s not like people think…”

Archie was speaking again.

“Suite two-one-seven. In the seventies…” He gestured toward a brass plaque on the door and announced in a hushed, dramatic tone. “Stephen King and his wife, Tabitha, stayed in this very room.”

“What’s it really like then?” I whispered back, totally pushing now.

I turned my head all the way this time. Because for all the irritation and sarcasm, for all the sideways glances and bossiness, Noah Grady intrigued me.

“Frustrating,” his answer was low.

“So you’re here to get away from it?”

This time, he gave me his full attention. And I mean he really looked at me. Like if he looked hard enough, he could see all my secrets.

“Maybe,” he said at last. Then, “What are you getting away from?”

And just like that, the conversation flipped. My mouth opened, but no words came out.

“During their visit,” Archie’s words saved me from having to answer Noah’s boomerang question, “King had a vivid nightmare about his young son being chased down the hotel corridors by a fire hose. He woke up, smoked a cigarette, and the idea for The Shining was born. Both the novel and its film adaptation went on to become classics of the horror genre.”

He let the weight of that sink in before adding, “And if you really want the full Stanley Hotel experience, you’re in luck. Stephen King’s preferred version of The Shining plays on a continuous loop on channel forty-two in every room—a little late-night treat for the brave.”

“Yeah, no,” I spoke up without checking myself.

“Same,” Noah surprised me by adding.

As the tour moved on, even as the dimly lit halls stretched ahead of us, with Noah’s presence right behind me, I forced myself to pay attention to the tour.

By now, we were climbing yet another staircase, this one creaky and narrow.

“Careful now, Roger.” Helen had her hand on Roger’s arm as he aimed his camera— Minnie —toward the ceiling.

“More than a century ago, this floor was a cavernous attic. It’s where female employees, children, and nannies stayed.

Today, it’s been converted into guest rooms—several of which your group has been lucky enough to snag.

Going back decades, guests have reported hearing children running around, laughing, and playing at all hours of the night. ”

“There’s my room, number four-zero-five,” Babs whispered, pointing it out, and then she leaned closer, her voice conspiratorial. “Maybe Morty will pop in for a visit,” she said with a wink.

The group slowed as Archie paused outside another room. “Room four-zero-one,” he announced.

Archie read the look on my face.

“Your room tonight?”

“Apparently,” I said, hugging my arms around myself.

My nerves were already a little shredded. Between Ed and Roger’s medical debates, Babs talking about Morty at the chapel, and how much all of it reminded me of my dad…

“Lucky you.” Archie gave a mischievous grin. “This one’s especially active. There are reports of whispers, doors opening on their own, and the closet? It tends to swing open right as guests are drifting off to sleep.”

Perfect.

The hallway lights flickered, as if on cue, and while Denise squealed about capturing an orb in one of her photos, a chill crept over my skin.

Archie clapped his hands. “Now…the basement. Follow me, and step carefully. Beneath the hotel, there’s a network of underground caves made of limestone and quartz…”

I didn’t hear the rest. Not really. My brain had started to fuzz at the edges, everything slowing like static.

After that, it was mostly a blur.

I walked. I nodded. I laughed when others laughed.

But the whole time, I could feel the weight of the day pressing down—everything I’d felt, said, remembered.

My mom. My dad. Noah.

I hadn’t expected this. I thought I’d just be getting over Leo.

It was …a lot.

By the time we were released from the final portion of the tour, I headed straight for my room.

Haunted or not, I didn’t care. I was done.

Inside, without calling my sister to give her an update, I showered, changed into a tank top and shorts, and crawled into the too-big bed. The room was quiet. Dark.

And somehow, I fell asleep almost instantly.

Unfortunately…

It didn’t last long.