Charlotte
I’d been elated. Ike McDermott’s arms had been wrapped around me. I’d felt him, felt his warmth. I’d dreamed of it for so long, and it’d finally happened. The moment had consumed me, eradicating any rational thought as I’d held onto this man I loved so dearly.
Thank you, God, I’d silently prayed. Thank you for giving me this, finally.
Then my happy floating moment slowed as a heaviness began to settle around me. Yes, I was here with Ike, but for that to happen it meant I had to be dead, which meant—No!
George was alone. I’d lost my husband.
Reality sliced through me as I’d pushed Ike off me and scrambled away. I was left with two overwhelming, but conflicting, emotions—the joy of being with one of the men I loved, and the pain of losing the other. My world had flipped. How could I celebrate this reunion with Ike, knowing I was leaving George alone and widowed?
As I sobbed, my hand covering my mouth and tears spilling down my cheeks, Ike watched me, uncertainty thick in his stare. He had to know what I was thinking, and I had no doubt he felt as conflicted as I did.
“Breathe, Charlotte,” he insisted, his voice calm and quiet. Reaching out cautiously, he stepped toward me, as if he was afraid I might attack him. I smacked his hand away, anger seizing me.
“Don’t do that,” I snapped as I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my arm.
“What?” he asked, shock edging his voice as he rubbed his hand.
“Don’t treat me like you’re afraid of me.”
He reared back ever so slightly, then he quickly collected himself. “Well,” he shied awkwardly away from me, “I am—a little.” He winked as the corner of his mouth lifted into a teasing smirk.
I glared at him and warned, “Ike…”
“Well you did just smack my hand,” he surmised, lifting one brow. “You’ve been threatening to hurt me since the day we met.” He rolled his shoulders back, then crossed his arms, tilting his head up and to the side, as if trying to recall a memory. “You threw the brush at me…then a pillow.” He frowned before meeting my gaze again. “And you threatened to kick me in the balls, like, at least seven hundred times.”
Before I knew it, I was laughing through my tears. Isn’t it funny what our minds can do? I was hurting and crying, yet laughing and feeling joy all at once—which probably only meant I was insane, rather than being a wonder of the mind. Ike had a way with me, though. He seemed to have had that way with most people. And maybe that was his gift. I could see the dead…he could make people find something to laugh about in the worst of times. I couldn’t deny his gift was way better.
“Only if you snuck in to see me naked while I was in the shower,” I reminded him as I chuckled and wiped my nose with the back of my shaky hand.
“And because I saw your boobs,” he corrected me. “Like it was my fault you flashed me or something.”
“You woke me out of a dead sleep, shouting at me!”
He widened his eyes as if in disbelief. “You practically forced me to look at them, Charlotte,” he dead-panned. “I’m merely a victim here.”
My smile grew a little bigger as I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that so?”
“It’s a fact.” Then he rolled his eyes back and fluttered his eyelids feigning pleasure. “But I must say, God, they were beautiful.”
“Ike McDermott!” I scoffed, grinning. “Don’t forget I can actually touch you now. I might have to make good on some of those threats.”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I mean, I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “buuut…I’m not. Not even a little.” His smile spread across his face, the one that always melted me and had thrown its invisible rope out and lassoed me years ago. Dear Lord, he was beautiful.
I rolled my eyes. “I kind of did want to punch you in the nads just for that.”
We laughed deeply, and it felt so good. Eventually the laughter faded, and there we were, just us, faint smiles on our faces as we stared at one another.
“So…” I said. “I guess this means I’m dead.”
He raised his brows and began to reply but a new voice cut him off, “Char?”
I whipped around to find the source, and when I did my heart felt as if it might burst out of my chest.
Shaggy hair.
Dimples.
Eyes that mirrored my own.
“Axel?” I gasped, disbelief threatening to take my knees out from under me.
A beaming grin captured my brother’s features. He was exactly as I remembered him. It took us a few seconds, almost like our minds were so busy processing the fact we were seeing each other they forgot to send the message to our bodies to move, but then everything caught up and we closed the distance and slammed into each other. The moment we made contact a million memories cascaded through my mind: Axel pulling my pigtails to make me squeal; the times I’d have a nightmare and sneak into his room to sleep with him because I was scared to be alone; the way he’d tease me relentlessly, but would never let anyone else say an unkind word to, or about, me. One beautiful memory after the other played out until the feed came to a screeching halt and froze on my last memory of him—the last time I saw him and didn’t even say goodbye because I hadn’t realized he was dead. I squeezed him tightly, as hard as I could. “I’m so sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you. I didn’t know, Axel. I didn’t know you were gone.”
His hand found the back of my head and cradled it. “Shh, Char. The only thing that mattered to me was that you were okay. If you had died because I took you on that stupid bike…”
“The accident wasn’t your fault—”
“Dad told me not to get it. They were so mad at me, and they were right.” His voice cracked as his arms tightened around me. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t do that,” I sniffled. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said, his words muffled by my hair in his face.
A sob broke loose from my chest and Axel kept his strong hold on me. “I’ve missed you, too, little sis.”
There were so many things I wanted to say to him; to tell him. The words just wouldn’t form into anything coherent, so I just held him in my vice-like grip and cried on his shoulder.
“Come on, now,” he soothed after a few minutes, attempting to pull me away. “Let me get a good look at ya.”
Eventually, I forced myself to release him and step back, but I kept hold of his arms, fearful he would disappear if I wasn’t touching him.
He smirked, “You still look like a dork.” I pursed my lips in mock annoyance at his teasing. “God, it’s good to see you,” he went on before I could retaliate with a loving insult of my own. I smiled and slammed against him again, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Who’s the dude staring at us?” he mumbled near my ear. I shook my head in disbelief, realizing I’d forgotten all about Ike when I’d seen my brother. I grabbed Axel’s hand and led him over to introduce them.
“Ike.” My face hurt from smiling so hard. I was with Ike and my brother. This was just too amazing…too everything. “This is my brother, Axel. Axel, this is Ike McDermott.”
Ike gave his friendly smile and the two shook hands. I couldn’t help thinking—do people really shake hands on the other side?
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Ike told him. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” Axel replied. Turning to me, he asked, “How long have you been here?”
“Literally just got here.”
Axel tilted his head moving his gaze between Ike and myself. “So you just died?”
I shook my head, trying to grasp that. I was dead. I had to be. How else could I be here with them if I wasn’t dead?
“Did you two die together?” Axel asked, uncertainty in his tone. Now he was eyeing Ike, the idea occurring to him that Ike and I might be a couple. It made my heart smile a little. Some things never changed, even in death. Axel would always be my protective big brother.
“No…” I hesitated awkwardly as it dawned on me Axel had died before I had my gift. “Ike passed away before me,” I finally said. “I have so much to tell you, Axel. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Why don’t you start with how you died?”
His suggestion gave me pause as I scoured my memory for the answer. The same tickling sensation I’d felt when Ike first came to me returned. The memory of whatever happened was there somewhere, but for some reason it wasn’t coming forward.
How did I die?