LOVING A GHOST.

CHAPTER 5.

The rain slowed as evening crept in, the sky breaking open just enough for the last light of the day to filter through. The wet sand outside glistened in dull silver, and the air smelled sharper—fresh, rinsed clean.

I hadn’t expected the storm to pass so quickly. The cottage was warm and dim, the poem book still open on the table, Alan’s mug standing like proof that he had been here. I thought he’d gone for the night, but when I stepped out onto the porch to breathe the cooler air, I saw him again.

He was standing by the edge of the sand, his jacket darkened with damp, hair still unruly from the rain.

“You’re still here,” I said, surprised.

He looked over, hands in his pockets, shoulders easy. “Didn’t get far.”

Something about that answer made me smile.

The air was restless with that after-rain energy—like it wasn’t done yet but wanted to give us a break. I stepped down the porch steps, pulling my sweater tighter. “Feels like the town’s been rinsed,” I said.

“Best time to go out,” Alan replied.

“Out where?”

He nodded toward the small road winding away from the beach, where puddles shimmered faintly. “Bikes. The shop at the corner rents them. You’ll see more of the town than from here.”

I blinked at him, incredulous. “Now? After a storm?”

He shrugged lightly, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Unless you’re afraid of getting your shoes wet.”

I scoffed. “That’s not even close to bullying, you know. You’re supposed to give me at least three good reasons before dragging me into something questionable.”

“You’ll see more of the town. That’s one. You’ll laugh at yourself. That’s two. And…” He paused, tilting his head, eyes steady on me. “You won’t be sitting alone.”

I exhaled, half a laugh, half surrender. “Fine. But if I break my neck, you’re carrying me back.”

“Deal,” he said, too quickly.

---

The bikes were old but sturdy, lined up outside the corner shop with peeling paint and a wooden sign that simply read Rentals. I handled the exchange, and soon I was wobbling on a seat slightly too high, my feet barely brushing the ground.

He steadied the handlebars with one hand, calm as ever. “You do know how to ride, right?”

“I know the theory,” I muttered, trying to push off. The front wheel wobbled dangerously before I found balance. “It’s been a while.”

He gave me a look—half amusement, half warning—and mounted his own bike with effortless grace. Of course he made it look easy.

The lane sloped gently upward before flattening, the puddles from the storm catching the fading light. The air was cool, damp, but not biting. As we rode, the houses thinned, giving way to hedges and fields, their soil darkened and rich from the rain.

“You’re not bad,” Alan said after a while, coasting beside me.

“Not bad? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“You haven’t fallen yet.”

“High praise.” I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling.

We rode in silence for a stretch, the only sounds the crunch of gravel, the faint whir of tires, the drip of water from tree branches. My legs burned a little, but it felt good.

---

We stopped at a small rise where the land opened up, the sea visible again in the distance, washed in fading light. Alan swung off his bike and leaned it against a fence post, gesturing for me to do the same.

“Worth the ride?” he asked.

I set my bike down, chest rising and falling. “I’ll admit it. Slightly.”

He reached into the small bag slung across his shoulder and pulled out two wrapped parcels. Bread and cheese.

“You planned this?” I said, half accusing, half impressed.

“Maybe.” He sat on the low fence rail like it was second nature, unwrapping the bread. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

I took the piece he handed me, the crust still soft, the cheese sharp. Sitting on the damp grass, I let the quiet settle between us again, though it felt different here—lighter, stretched out by the open fields.

---

The light thinned, the sky bruising into shades of purple and blue. Fireflies began to flicker in the tall grass, tiny sparks that came and went.

Alan leaned back on his hands, legs stretched in front of him, completely at ease. I hugged my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them, watching the last of the day fade.

We sat in the soft quiet until the air grew cooler and the first stars began to show.

---

The ride back was slower, the path dim but manageable. I nearly lost my balance twice, earning another dry comment from him that made me laugh despite myself.

When we reached the cottage, the porch light glowed faintly, yellow against the dark. I leaned the bike against the railing, stretching my sore legs.

Alan stopped at the steps again, the same calm expression as always.

“Well,” he said simply, “you survived.”

“Barely.” I gave him a mock glare. “My legs may never forgive me.”

“They’ll thank you tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “Goodnight, Alan.”

He nodded once. “Goodnight, Elaina.”

And like before, he slipped into the night, quiet as the tide.

I stood on the porch a while, the sound of waves filling the space he left, before going inside. The cottage smelled faintly of rain. I sank into the sofa, muscles aching, heart oddly light.