Page 142

Jonah’s advice. Good advice, probably.

But what would he tell her?

That he’d spent the night wishing he could touch a ghost? His gaze drifted to the cupboard where he’d stored the tin with her tea.

Bad idea.

Bad idea.

Mom would never have given him the tin if she knew what thoughts were running through his mind now. If she knew that Leo’s voice was dominating his thoughts now.

I always want the things I shouldn’t.

Nate turned away from the phone and poured himself a cup of coffee.

‘Shouldn’t.’

Because Nate was alive or because Nate was a man? Nate wished he’d asked, but he’d been so focused on the ‘want’ part that the rest of the sentence hadn’t really registered.

Stupid. He was being really stupid.

He wasn’t some rogue medium who didn’t know better. He’d been raised in a community who’d taught him all he needed to know about his gift, and the dead.

He knew the right course of action: remove yourself from the situation and let someone else take care of the ghost.

Nate wasn’t going to.

And there was no excuse for that.

“What are you thinking?” Leo asked, watching him drink his coffee.

“That I really don’t want to talk to my mother,” Nate admitted.

Naturally, his phone chose that moment to ring.

“Is that her?” Leo asked.

“Yeah.”

Nate considered letting the call go to voicemail, but he was no coward.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Her voice was warm and unhurried, which meant nothing. She could take a soul apart in that voice. “Am I calling too early?”

“No. I was up.”

“Good.” A pause, like the quiet before the storm. “Is he listening?”

Nate looked at Leo, and then he put the phone on speaker. “Yes,” Nate said. “He’s listening.”

“Good morning, Leo,” his mother said.

Leo straightened up by the window as if she could see him. “Good morning.”

“He says good morning,” Nate said.

“Thank you, Nathan.” A chair creaked on her end. She was sitting down. “I watched the videos.”