The Ghost of You

by Tori Fox

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  Copyright © 2020 by Tori Fox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing/Proofreading by Ellie at My Brother’s Editor

  Cover Design by Juliana at Jersey Girl Design

  Table of Contents

  1. Noah

  2. Anna

  3. Noah

  4. Noah

  5. Anna

  6. Noah

  7. Anna

  8. Noah

  9. Anna

  10. Noah

  11. Anna

  12. Noah

  13. Anna

  14. Noah

  15. Anna

  16. Noah

  17. Anna

  18. Noah

  19. Anna

  20. Noah

  21. Anna

  22. Noah

  23. Noah

  24. Anna

  25. Noah

  Also by Tori Fox

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  Noah

  “You can’t talk like that to a woman.”

  “They like it.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think they do,” I say, shaking my head as I pull our cruiser up to a parking lot of food trucks.

  “When was the last time you were even with a woman? I highly doubt you know what it takes to get laid anymore,” my partner, Niko, says before he gets out of the car.

  “Just because I don’t have relationships, doesn’t mean I haven’t had my fair share of women.”

  “Yeah, but you are an old man so the grannies are a different story, can’t seduce them the same way.”

  I shove my partner as we walk up to the food truck. I am not old, at least in my book. I’m thirty-five. And I look good for my age. I am fit and can run miles around my young partner. I take police work seriously and don’t let my body go. We might not have a huge amount of criminal activity in Asheville compared to larger cities but we have needed to chase a few suspects and I don’t want to be leaning over gasping for breath and let a criminal get away.

  My partner is ten years younger than me and finds it funny to tease me about my age. We’ve been together for three years and despite our age difference, we work well as a team. I’ve been a mentor to him, and he keeps me young, you could say.

  “Telling a woman she would look better bent over naked, is not going to score you any dates,” I tell him after we order food.

  “It worked on that girl last week.”

  “Don’t tell me you use the same lines on girls every time you go out.”

  He grins at me, his smile taking up half his face. “You are too easy, old man. How are you ever going to become a detective if you can’t read a man’s features when he’s lying.”

  I punch Niko in the arm. “Fuck off. I know you weren’t lying. I actually heard you tell a woman once; you would prefer to view her pussy if it was sitting on your face.”

  Niko smiles at me. “And she went home with me. And we had a great time.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “And her pussy did look better sitting on my face.”

  I choose to ignore him and grab our food when they call our names from the truck window. Niko is a horndog and I have heard him use any and every kind of raunchy pickup line in the book and not in the book. If he wasn’t as good looking as he was, I am sure he would get turned down a lot more often. But most women can’t look away from his stormy gray eyes. Half of us in the precinct call him Storm for that very reason.

  We joke around as we eat our dinner until we get a call for backup on a drunk driver. I look at my watch and see it’s just past ten. It’s a Friday night and the middle of October, meaning the college kids will be partying more than usual and bars get a bit more crowded as Halloween themed nights go into full swing. We both look at each other and know this is the beginning to a long night.

  I shut the front door of my house behind me as I get in from my shift. It’s half-past two in the morning and as much as I would like to crash after my ten-hour shift, I need to study and get a workout in before I can sleep.

  My best friend and roommate jogs to the door as I walk in. I crouch down and pat him on the head. I’ve had Brutus for the last four years. He has been my rock and the only thing I can count on, besides my crazy family. But I can only handle them in small doses, although they seem to stick their nose in my life more often than I want them to.

  I head upstairs in my small craftsman house. It’s a work in progress, but when I moved in here, I needed anything I could do to keep my mind busy. Not to mention I am a police officer. It’s not like I am rolling in big bucks.

  I walk into my closet and open the safe, placing my gun and badge inside. I undress, removing my uniform and my ballistics vest. I throw on a pair of basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. I jog back downstairs and grab Brutus’ leash and my running shoes out of the coat closet.

  He runs in circles around himself as I tie my shoes. Once I stand up, I clip his leash to his collar and we both walk outside for an early morning run. With Brutus being a mix of a rottweiler and a bulldog, I need to keep my runs close to home. Some days he acts like more of a rott and will run five miles with me. Other days he acts like a bulldog and makes it around the block twice.

  We are three blocks in and Brutus starts to drag behind me so I head home to drop him off. I wave at my neighbor who is pulling into her driveway as I head back out. As much as I hate running after a ten-hour shift, it helps clear my head of all the things that happened at work. I was lucky tonight and only had a handful of traffic tickets, drunk drivers, and a few bar fights. I hate the days when I am first on scene to a car wreck or the days I have to tell someone they have lost a loved one.

  My job is rewarding at times, but other days it’s grueling hard work. But the good days outnumber the bad, and it’s why I keep doing what I do.

  When I get home after a few miles, I head down into my basement where I set up a home gym. I spend an hour lifting weights and working my core before I make my way to the kitchen for a light breakfast and a bit of studying.

  I’ve been a cop for nearly fifteen years, but I think it’s finally time I move on. The guys in my squad have been encouraging me for a few years to take the detective exam and I even went the extra mile and worked my ass off to get an associate’s degree in criminal justice. But I keep putting off signing up for the detective exam again. It’s not that I don’t want to be a detective, I want it more than anything, but the thought of failing keeps me from doing it. I’ve failed twice.

  There is another test coming up in March, and I finally took the leap and applied. But I wouldn’t be working for the city anymore. I want to work for the county to gain the experience in hopes to one day work for the city. If I pass and get hired, I’ll miss the guys I’ve worked with for years, but I know it’s the best move I can make for myself. And I need to do this for me.

  I look out the window and see the burning orange sky on the horizon, the sun just beginning to rise. I shut my laptop and make my way to the stairs. Brutus follows behind me and flops onto his dog bed as I close the blackout curtains in my room. It’s the worst part of working the swing shift, balancing your daytime and night. I strip my clothes off and lay in bed, forcing myself to sleep.

  I wake up to Brutus licking my face, an odd occurrence. He rarely ever jumps in my bed. I have trained him well. I roll over and notice it’s after four in the afternoon. I hardly sleep that long. My body trained to wake me up between noon and one so I can prepare fo
r the night.

  I push Brutus off me and hear my front door open and close. I jump out of bed and am halfway to my closet when my brother walks through my bedroom door.

  “Dude, you are starting to look like a vampire. Maybe you should head to the tanning salon. You are almost transparent. I can see straight through your balls.”

  I sleep naked. And in my hurry to the closet to get my gun in case of an intruder, I didn’t think to pull on pants. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought someone was breaking in.”

  “Well, I guess that is one way to scare off an intruder. Ghost balls.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Carson.”

  “Why were you still in bed? Aren’t you usually up by now?” Carson asks.

  I grab a pair of sweats from inside my closet, putting them on before I answer my brother. “Usually. But I tend to sleep late after my last shift. Refreshes my mind.” We work four on, three off at the police department so when it’s my first day off, I sleep in.

  Carson squats down in front of Brutus who is happy to get the attention. “Well, let me refresh your mind about tonight. It’s Asher’s twenty-first birthday. We are supposed to be meeting him in an hour for dinner before we get him shitfaced and throwing up before midnight.”

  I laugh. “I don’t think you know Asher very well. He has been drinking since he was thirteen. That little punk can hold his liquor.”

  “True. At least you don’t have to turn your head to your brother anymore if you see him underage drinking.”

  I walk toward my bathroom door. “You gonna hang out in my room while I shower? Gossip with me about the family?”

  “Fuck off, Noah. I only came up here because you didn’t answer your door after I knocked for five minutes.”

  “Sorry, man, didn’t hear you.”

  He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’ve been working hard.”

  “Can you let Brutus out when you go downstairs?” I ask.

  “You want me to water your plants too?” he asks sarcastically.

  I shake my head and walk in the bathroom, shutting the door behind me without answering. I love my brothers, but some days they are too much to handle.

  I get ready and meet Carson downstairs. “You ready to show Asher what a good time actually looks like?”

  We both laugh as we head out the door. We’ve been planning Asher’s birthday for a few weeks. And it’s not just dinner and drinks. He’s got a whole lot in store for him tonight.

  “Fucker doesn’t know what’s coming.”

  2

  Anna

  I yawn as I flip the sign on the door to open. I got a whopping four hours of sleep last night. I can feel the bags under my eyes, I don’t need a mirror to tell me they are there.

  I sip on my coffee, wishing we had an espresso machine at the studio. But my boss and best friend says, ‘yoga is meant to wake up the mind, not espresso.’ It’s a load of horseshit if you ask me. I love being a yoga instructor but never has yoga woke me up the way coffee does. It was hard enough to get her to agree to put a coffee machine in the office. But she eventually caved when she hired on a third instructor who felt the same way about me on the necessity of coffee.

  I pull my yoga mat out of the office and turn on the soft relaxation music as people start to come in. I say hello to my regular students and welcome in any newcomers, explaining the daily cost and punch cards we offer.

  Once the clock hits eight o’clock on the dot, I start the class. My body is feeling it this morning as I go through the movements with everyone. I should really switch this time slot out with my boss, Seraphina. Yes, she is a hippie but that’s not why she has that name. Her parents are super religious, bordering on cult status and they thought she was the chosen one when she was born, an angel meant to bring down fire to those who have sinned. I think that’s why she became a hippie, the complete opposite of what her parents are like.

  As I walk through the class adjusting body positions to ensure everyone gets the deepest stretch, I can’t stop yawning. Ever since I picked up a job at one of the college bars, my body has not been able to handle these early morning classes.

  Another yawn escapes me just as Seraphina walks in. Her long, lean frame is perfection as she strolls into the studio in tie-dyed leggings and a hot pink crop top, her gorgeous, sun-kissed blond hair up in a topknot, and a large bag slung over her shoulder. She gives me a dirty look as I yawn again before she walks into the office.

  I finish up the class and let everyone know they did a great job before heading into the office.

  “You know, if you yawn throughout the class, the students will feel your energy. Maybe you should meditate beforehand to encourage your mind to free itself of your tired thoughts.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “Or maybe we should get an espresso machine so I can actually wake up for these morning classes when I work until two in the morning the night before.”

  Seraphina looks at me over her laptop. “I wondered how long it would take you before you asked me again.”

  I slump into the chair by the desk and let out a long breath. “Or I don’t teach the morning session.”

  “Or you could open that bag over there,” she says to me with a smile.

  I look over to the giant bag she had slung on her shoulder this morning and perk up when I see the corner label sticking out. “You bought me an espresso machine!”

  She laughs. “It’s not just for you. Sophia gets to use it too.”

  I squeal as I wrap my arms around her neck from behind. “Have I ever told you that you are the best boss ever!”

  She pulls my arms off her. “Not nearly enough.”

  I grab the box off the floor and hug it to my chest. “Best day of my life.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Seraphina says smugly. “But you need to put it together because you know I haven’t had coffee since college.”

  I set the box on the counter and open it with a pair of scissors. “And I don’t know what is wrong with you. You’re missing out on the nectar of the gods every morning.”

  “Doubtful. I much prefer my morning meditation and yoga session to wake me up.”

  I turn toward her and lean against the counter. “You know since you start every day with yoga, you could just do the morning class.”

  “Nice try, Anna. But I teach the six a.m. class Monday through Friday, I like not coming in until nine on Saturdays.”

  I huff and go back to setting up the espresso machine.

  “Are you working at the Beer Garden again tonight?” Seraphina asks.

  “Yeah. The money is just too good.” It sucks losing my Friday and Saturday night to work, but I can easily make three to four hundred dollars in tips a night at the Beer Garden.

  “Are we ever going to go out again? I need a night on the town.”

  Despite Seraphina’s hippie persona, she is a party animal. She loves to go out drinking and socializing. I know she hates that we never get to do it anymore because I work too much.

  “I can always ask for a night off, you know. Maybe in November, after Halloween.”

  “Or you could quit your other job. Do you even make any money there?”

  She’s talking about my job at the bar and grill. I relied on that income before I got the job at the Beer Garden, but now I don’t really need it. I usually make less than a hundred bucks a night. “I make enough to keep it. And it’s only a few nights a week.”

  “Or it’s because you like looking at all those hot cops all night,” she mumbles.

  “You’re delusional. Most of those cops are not hot.”

  She smirks at me. “Most of them? That means there are a few that are. Like your neighbor? Mmm. That is one cop that I would have no problem letting handcuff me.”

  “You’re not his type.”

  “And how would you know?” She raises a brow at me.

  I feel my neck turning red. “I’ve seen some of the women he brings over.”

  “Are you spying on him?”r />
  “Uh no. I live next to him. And I see them leaving his place in the morning sometimes,” I lie. I have no idea what his type is but I don’t want Seraphina to get any ideas. It would be awkward for me to live next to him and have him banging my crazy friend.

  “So why don’t you quit Jimmy’s then?” She changes the subject back.

  I shrug. “I like my regular customers there. And it’s only a few nights a week. And I am off by eleven-thirty.”

  “Whatever you say, Anna May.”

  I hate when she calls me that name, the name my family calls me by. But she only uses it whenever I am lying in hopes that I will give her the truth.

  And so what if I want to work at Jimmy’s even though I don’t make that much. It’s not because I like to look at my neighbor hanging out with his co-workers, to see his strong jaw move as he laughs, throwing his head back, his Adam’s apple protruding. Or the way the veins pop out in his thick forearms when he drinks his beer. I don’t notice any of it. Besides, he has been working swing shifts the last month, so he hasn’t been coming in after his shift for drinks with the guys. And I only know that because I see him getting home some nights around the same time I get home from the Beer Garden. I swear.

  I run down the bar to grab a few IPAs from the cooler before heading back to serve them to my customers. It is insanely busy at the Beer Garden and I blame it on the weather. It should be dropping into the forties at night now but it’s an unseasonable sixty degrees out. Which means all the college kids are getting their drink on.