My heart beat a little faster. His fingers felt warm, even through the fabric of my bathrobe. His breath tingled against my lips. I reached up, laid my palm on his chest.

A heartbeat.

“You’re alive!”

He reached back, awkwardly, groping for a chair. Dragged it close and sat down hard. “Moje,” he said, “I told you not to believe the news—”

I planted a smacking kiss in the center of his forehead. Slipped my arms around his neck.

He removed them. “Who’s Nick?”

I bit my lip. My eyes burned. “You’re not going to believe a word I say.”

“Try me,” he said.

Might as well just spit it out, so he could have me committed and be done with it. “Nick’s my dead ex-husband.”

“Do you want me to levitate something?” Nick asked, from just behind my right shoulder. “It might convince him.”

I didn’t look back or answer. Nick could read my thoughts. All right, then, I’d give him the full benefit of my Anglo-Saxon vocabulary.

Tucker plunged his fingers into my hair, dragged the sides of his thumbs lightly over my cheekbones. “Moje, what’s going on here?”

I wished Nick would get out. Maybe Tucker and I could share a shower before he called for the wagon and had me hauled away.

“My ex,” I repeated lamely. “He’s been haunting me.”

Everything in Tucker’s face went absolutely still. “You were talking to a dead guy?”

I nodded, patently miserable and wildly happy, at the same time, because Tucker hadn’t blown up in his car. He wasn’t on leave from the train station.

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“He believes you,” Nick supplied helpfully. Now, he was standing directly behind Tucker. “But he’s a logical kind of fella. Ask him about his cousin Jessica. She was hit by a car when she was four and he was seven, and he saw her every night for six months after it happened.”

“Will you not help?”

Tucker cupped my chin, turned my head so we were eye to eye again. From his perspective, I’d been talking to empty space, and I expected some comment on that. “When I was seven,” he said instead, “a bunch of us were playing baseball in a park. My cousin—” He stopped, and his jaw worked.

I was too shaken to speak.

“Her name was Jessica, and she was a tomboy. She wanted to get into the game, but she was only four and she wasn’t supposed to leave our grandparents’ yard. She ran into the street—”

I closed my eyes, made myself open them again. Swallowed hard.

“She called my name,” Tucker went on. “I turned around, and I was about to yell at her to go home. Instead, I was just in time to see an old pickup come around the corner on two wheels and—”

I touched his hair.