Love, Like Ghosts: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations Story

at the rear of the Forest Theatre, watching the vague blur where he knew the stage lay. His heart galloped so fast he thought it might fly straight up his throat and out of his body, but he didn’t move. He had to wait. For what, he wasn’t sure. He only knew he mustn’t move, mustn’t even blink, or he’d miss it.
    Hours later—seconds? Minutes? He had no way of knowing—a spotlight switched on. The white light illuminated a single figure which floated weightless in midair, bare feet hanging several inches above the stage, arms spread wide as if secured to an invisible cross. The figure wore old-fashioned black breeches and a white linen shirt, untucked with the laces open. Blood matted the golden brown curls, splattered the pale neck and dripped into the gray eyes. As Adrian watched, a long, ragged wound opened the exposed chest from one side to the other. Blood poured out, more blood than Adrian had ever seen, a bright red waterfall that ran down the man’s legs and pattered onto the stage.
    Adrian tried to cry out, tried to run to the stage and sweep Greg into his arms. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. Even his tears solidified before they could fall, sealing his eyelids open so he’d never have to look away.
    Greg’s gaze locked onto Adrian’s. “I, oh, I can handle it,” Greg sang, each word drawn out over several lilting notes. “You, whoa, oh, you don’t need to rescue me… No, you don’t… You don’t… Oh, whoa, whoa, Adrian…”
    Adrian sat straight up in bed, panting. The dream still seemed horrifyingly real. He could even hear the tune Greg had been singing. Though it appeared to have been reduced to a less robust version, without Greg’s voice.
    Shit, it’s my phone. Adrian snorted. He was going to kill Chelsea for reprogramming his ringtone to Mariah Carey when he wasn’t looking.
Reaching over to the bedside table, he grabbed his iPhone and checked the display. His stomach clenched when he saw the name. He answered before Greg could change his mind.
“Hi, Greg.” He lay back against the pillows, willing his pulse to slow down. “What’s up?”
Greg let out a humorless laugh. “I’m calling you at four in the morning, Adrian. You don’t have to pretend it’s okay.”
“I’m not pretending. You can always call me if you need me.” Silence. Adrian could hear Greg’s ragged breathing. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Well, no, not really. Fuck, I don’t know.”
Greg’s voice sounded rough and thick, as if he’d been crying. Adrian’s brow furrowed. “Greg—”
“Look, I just…I think I just need to explain why I acted like I did earlier. So, I’m gonna do that, and it’ll be easier if you just listen. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is. Anything you need.”
A sharp exhale hit the receiver. “Okay. So, the thing is, when I was with Harrison, I was nothing but a thing to him. That’s still all I am to him. Just something he had and lost and wants back. And then when you started getting in his face…”
Greg trailed off. Adrian bit his tongue and waited.
When Greg started talking again, his voice had gone quiet and sad. “When the two of you were fighting over me, I could’ve walked away, and neither of you would’ve even noticed, because what I thought or felt or wanted didn’t matter right then. Y’all were involved in your pissing contest, and I might as well not have even been there. Do you have any idea what that feels like? It feels like I’m not even a person. And I know you didn’t mean it like that, I know you don’t see me as a possession like Harrison does. It just… For a minute there, it felt that way. And I’d promised myself I’d never let that happen again, and…well. I know I acted like an ass, and I’m sorry. I guess I just freaked out a little. And I don’t know if any of this is even making any sense to you, but I had to at least try to explain.”
It all makes sense now. Jesus. No wonder he was pissed. Adrian’s stomach rolled. He’d always despised men who treated their partners like property. It made him sick to realize he’d turned into one of those men, however briefly or unintentionally.
Adrian rubbed his free hand over his forehead. “I’m glad you did. It makes perfect sense, and I don’t blame you for being upset. I’m so sorry.”
Soft laughter floated through the receiver. “I’m just glad you’re not too pissed off at me. Most guys aren’t as willing to listen as you are.”
“Hell,