Page 87 of Where the Roses Bloom

Silas stood, his biscuit forgotten on the table, eyes narrowed and body rigid like he was listening for something no one else could hear.

The light above the kitchen flickered once.

Delilah didn’t flinch. “He’s listening.”

I felt it then: the shift in the air, cold threading in through the seams of the walls. A prickling sensation crawled up the back of my neck, curling around my throat like the subtlestclench of fingers.

Carter was listening.

I looked at Rhett, and he looked at me. Neither of us said a word. We didn’t have to.

Our new ghost had heard the plan.

And he wasn’t pleased.

CHAPTER 30

Rhett

The sun was sinkinglow behind the trees, the sky streaked with that hazy orange-pink that made everything look softer than it was. I sat on the porch swing with Willow tucked beside me, her bare feet drawn up, her head on my shoulder. The mug of tea in her hands had long since gone cold.

Neither of us said much. We didn’t need to.

Inside, the house was quiet again—too quiet. Delilah had insisted we “clear the air” before June arrived, which apparently meant incense, salt lines, and everyone muttering different, broken, half-remembered versions of the Lord’s Prayer while Mabel opened every window in the damn place. The scent of rosemary and lemon peel lingered.

Willow let out a long breath, and I felt her shift against me.

“You okay?” I asked, brushing my thumb along her thigh.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just…processing. I think the silence is worse now that I know he’s listening.”

I didn’t argue. I just pressed a kiss to her hair.

After a beat, she added, “I should go buy some pregnancy tests.”

“It can wait.” I tried to keep my voice calm, steady. “You don’t have to rush.”

“I think I’m just scared of being wrong,” she admitted. “Like if I say it out loud too many times, it’ll vanish.”

I looked down at her. “It won’t.”

She turned her face toward me, her eyes soft in the fading light. “What if it’s real, Rhett? What if I really am?”

“Then we figure it out,” I said, cupping her cheek. “We hold onto each other and raise the hell outta that baby.”

She smiled, soft and gorgeous—but before she could answer, tires crunched over gravel out front. The headlights swung across the trees, catching the porch in their glow, then a green SUV rolled to a stop beside my truck.

“That her?” Willow asked, sitting up straighter.

“I think so.” I stood and offered her my hand, helping her to her feet.

The driver’s door opened, Delilah already halfway down the steps to greet whoever stepped out. A woman emerged—tall, with burnished gold hair, dressed in jeans, boots, and a loose white blouse with sleeves rolled to the elbows. A silver cross hung around her neck, and her eyes sparkled even in the dusk.

She didn’t look like any exorcist I’d ever imagined.

She looked like the sunniest girl in seminary.

Delilah laughed and pulled her into a hug. “You found it.”