❝I had a conversation with Death, he wants you back ❞
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At the New Year's Eve party, Quincy Sinclair finds the dead body of Alfred Kingsley III. Resident golden boy and incredibly rich, his death was no accident.
By morning, Quincy sees him again...
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My mouth opened and closed, bobbing like a fish while my eyes searched his, frantically switching from one to the other. Desperately, I tried to understand what he was thinking. The family secret was out, a secret buried so deep that not even I should have known. But I did and now so did Kingsley.
"H-how do you know?" I whispered.
Kingsley was still crouched in front of me with a blank expression painted over his glowing features.
"I felt it," he murmured. "Your eyes did this weird thing, Quincy. They went fully white and it was if you were dead but still standing. I touched your shoulders to wake you up and I saw it all."
"It all?" I squeaked.
"You knew he was your brother, why didn't you tell me?" He demanded, his voice was scratchy as it picked up in volume.
"You should tell me what you saw so that I can explain properly," I advised softly. He was pissed.
Hesitantly, I reached my hand out. It held a subtle shake that you'd only notice by staring carefully, which Kingsley was. I probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights right now. The words he had said stung. No, Arthur Sinclair was not my biological father but he might as well have been. I wasn't sure if he knew whether I was his or not. Thinking back, it was pretty damn obvious considering who my mother was.
My fingers traced his jawline and I breathed harshly through my nose at the cold that thawed from my touch. Then I cupped his cheek and he leaned into me, surprisingly. I bit my tongue to stop myself ruining whatever was happening.
"It hurts so much," he confessed.
"What does?"
"Everything. Being a ghost hurts so fucking much. I'm detached and everything is slipping away. I can't concentrate on staying real while my memories leave me and it feels like billions of years ago when I was a real person. My soul is on fire because I know it doesn't belong here with the living but then you touch me like that and... well, it all goes away again."
"Kingsley," I warned. I didn't want him to go all soft, especially when there were less than two and a half hours left of him being here as I knew him.
"No, Quincy, I know I shouldn't. It's probably just a ghost thing but it feels so good here that I'm damn near ready to propose to you just to stay like this forever," he sighed in content. I attempted to pull my palm away but he captured my wrist before I could escape.
"Please," he broke. "I can tell it's almost time to go, I can feel parts of my soul picking up and leaving like the wind. Let me just enjoy this now before I die for real."
I blinked at his honesty, my heart raced. I couldn't deny the flutter of tingles through my palm but I could pretend that it didn't affect me.
"Should we kiss now?" he whispered with his eyes closed as a smirk tugged at his lips.
