Where One Goes(7)

His gaze meets mine and he shakes his head. “You don’t know what it’s like to walk around for months and months and have no one see you or hear you.” He’s not the first dead person to tell me this. I try to sympathize and remember that every time I get frustrated about a new soul popping up, but it’s hard sometimes.

We stare at each other a long while before he stands. “I’m going to go check on my brother and let you have a bit of peace. I’ll be back before you wake up.” His dog tags jingle as he stands.

“Okay,” I swallow, oddly saddened that he’s leaving. Normally, this would be a time of celebration. Alone time. But for some reason, I want to get to know him. He’s the first soul I’ve met that’s actually put me first. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Charlotte,” he offers, and then he vanishes.





I check on George. He’s passed out with Misty by his side, her tits out for the world to see. But he’s breathing. That’s been my biggest fear; that he will kill himself by overdosing. In the ten months since I passed, George has lost a lot of weight and looks half-dead himself. He blames himself for my death, like he could’ve stopped me from joining the military, or if he’d been there, he could’ve saved me. Joining was my choice. It’s what I wanted and I have no regrets, except for what my death is doing to him.

But there is hope now. There is Charlotte. The wild and beautiful creature may just be the answer. But she needs saving, too, that I can see. To think, if I had been just a few minutes later appearing on that bridge, I may have never met her. I only need to figure out how I can help her while she helps George. I’ll need to figure out how to save her, and my brother, from killing themselves.



It’s nine in the morning and Charlotte is still sleeping. She looks different with dry hair in the light of day. Her dark hair is shiny and soft, fanned out over the pillows. Her lips are now pink, not blue as they were last night. She’s on her stomach, the blanket just barely covering her ass. Her skin looks so smooth and creamy, I’d give anything to touch it. I know I shouldn’t be staring at her like this, but I can’t help it. I may be dead, but I’m still a man—I like to look at beautiful women.

I have to get her up. She needs to get to her truck, and we need to get her a job immediately.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” I yell, and clap my hands in front of her face. She jolts up, her eyes frantic. I get a great shot of her breasts, and dear God, they are beautiful, I mean, call me an *, but I have no shame in staring at her before she jerks the blanket up, covering herself. Man, I miss the feel of a woman. Their softness, their warmness.

“I’m going to kill you!” she shouts.

“Little late for that, babe,” I reply and jerk my chin. She tosses a pillow at me. It goes right through me and lands on the floor.

I yawn. “Ouch.”

“Don’t wake me up like that ever again!” she shouts. “I don’t have any clothes on!”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I mock confusion.

“Asshole!”

“My, my, we’re grumpy in the morning,” I chuckle as she stands, wrapping the blanket around her. The dead can still get hard-ons. I have to turn from her, so she doesn’t see mine as I mentally lick her long, lean body. Damn!

She grabs her bag and scurries into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Apparently, mornings are not her forte. When she exits the bathroom, she’s wearing worn jeans with holes all over and a black tank top. Her dark hair is down and she’s put on a little makeup. Although she still looks tired and frail, she looks refreshed, and that makes me happy. I don’t know her well, but I hope when all is said and done, I can help her find some happiness.

“How much did you see?” she asks as she zips her backpack up.

“Not much.” I shrug and she sighs with relief. “Just your breasts,” I add nonchalantly, and she throws a hair brush at me, which zips right through me and hits the wall.

“Thought we already established that won’t work.”

“You suck,” she huffs and flings her backpack over her shoulder.

“They were really nice, Charlotte.” I compliment her and she blushes, but she can’t help but smile.

“You’re lucky my gift is limited to seeing and hearing you. If I could touch you, you’d be talking in soprano right now.”

I laugh as she opens the door and slams it in my face. I materialize beside her, outside, and we head to the front office to check her out, but Ginger just smiles and shakes her head.

“Apparently, Mr. Mercer went home and told Mrs. Mercer about you; she came in first thing this morning and paid for your room until Sunday.”

“What?” Charlotte stares at the woman like she’s grown an extra head.

“She left this for you, too.” Ginger hands her a Ziploc bag with Charlotte’s necklace in it.

“Why would they do this for me?” Charlotte asks, but instead of looking at Ginger, she looks at me.

“I think you remind them of their daughter. She died over a decade ago,” Ginger says, before she smiles, sadly.

Charlotte lets out a deep sigh, and I see how this news affects her. Her gray eyes stare down as she takes in the information. “Thank you, Ginger.”