lynn glanced behind her at her body, lying still in the hospital bed. Then her eyes went to Tucker, sleeping by her bedside, one hand resting on her lower arm to alert him if she moved. It was dark out, way past visiting hours, but he was there. She smiled. All that stuff they say about unconscious people knowing their loved ones are with them? It was true.

Huh. Dig that.

Flynn sensed someone at the foot of her bed, and turned her attention away from Tucker to see Esther standing next to her bed.

Wow. That woman was really short.

But something was different about her. She looked younger. Happier. And unlike all their other visits, the light that accompanied her was white.

Flynn smiled. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” She motioned toward the sleeping Flynn. “Did you think I’d miss this?”

“Guess not.” She watched Esther’s smiling face for a moment, overwhelmed by affection and sadness.

This day had been just full of surprises.

“So,” she said, feeling an odd lump in her throat despite the fact that she was disembodied at the moment, “I assume by the fact that you’re here and not in the cottage that you’re free now?”

Esther nodded. “I am.”

“Because I solved your murder, right? I freed you, didn’t I? How much are you digging me right now?”

“Less and less as time goes on,” Esther said, but then smiled and nodded toward Tucker. “You should wake up. Put the poor man out of his misery.”

“I’ve tried,” Flynn said. “I can’t. I think it’s the drugs.”

“Okay. Well. Since we’ve got a minute...” Esther paused, daintily smoothing out the sleeves of her ghostly dress. “I’d like to say that despite how rude you were to me, I have risen above it, and I left something for you.”

Flynn bopped up on the bed. “Oh! Is it a ghost pony? I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“No,” Esther said, pursing her lips.

“Well? Where is it? I want my gift.”

“You’ll get it soon, and when you do, you’ll know it’s from me.”

Before she could remember that they were both disembodied, Flynn reached out for Esther’s hand, and was surprised to feel it solidly there. It was warm, and the white glow spread to encompass Flynn’s fingers as Esther squeezed back.

“Wow,” she said, sniffling. “Those are some powerful drugs. I’m kinda sad to see you go.”

“If you work on that mouth of yours,” Esther said, her eyes misting a bit themselves, “you might just turn out okay.”

Flynn laughed, gave Esther’s hands one last squeeze, and released them. “Tell Harold Wilbur I said hi.”

Esther nodded, then turned and walked away.

Crazy old goat, Flynn thought as she wiggled her fingers in the direction of the wall Esther had just walked through. I’ll miss you.

I heard that, Esther’s disembodied voice called faintly.

Flynn’s vision went black, and her body felt suddenly heavy. She took in a deep breath and opened her eyes.

She was in the hospital room. Awake. Alive.

Tucker stirred in the seat next to her, as if sensing her consciousness. He lifted his head and smiled when his eyes met hers.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft.

“Hey yourself,” Flynn croaked, then coughed against the scratchiness in her throat. Tucker grabbed a pitcher from the bedside tray, poured her a cup of water, and sat on the bed, holding it out for her to drink. When she was done, he put it on the tray and looked down at her.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“I don’t know. How am I doing?”

“You’re gonna be fine.” He gave a weak smile. “The, uh, the bullet hit an artery, and you lost some blood. A lot of blood, actually. They medevacked you out here to Albany and put you in surgery and they, uh, they fixed you. Your arm’s gonna be sore. It’ll be a while before you can play golf again.”

“I hate golf.”

“Hey, well, then it’s a win.”

Flynn took a deep breath. “How are you? Are you okay?”

Tucker raised his eyes to hers and she could see the answer to that question.

“Tucker...”

“Well,” he said, lowering his eyes again, “I tell ya, I don’t know what I’m gonna do to top this. First I get you shot at, and then I get you actually shot. I’m really struggling to figure out what our next date should be. How do you feel about naked skydiving without a parachute?”

“I like the naked part.” She reached out and put her hand on his. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

He huffed. “Then whose fault is it?”

“Annabelle’s,” Flynn said. “Speaking of which, they took her down, right?”

“Yep. She’s rotting in a cell as we speak.”

Flynn smiled, but Tucker’s face didn’t reveal the slightest trace of amusement.

“Hey,” she said. “Stop it with the miserable, okay?”

“All you asked was for breakfast. If I had gone—”

“Hey,” she said forcefully. He raised his eyes to hers, and once she knew she had his attention, she smiled. “Never happened.”

“What?” he said, his voice an incredulous whisper.

She spoke slowly, so he’d know she meant what she was saying. “It. Never. Happened.”

“Flynn, that doesn’t work here. You could have—”

“Look,” she said, “we can sit here and torture ourselves about it. I can feel bad that I very easily could have gotten you killed, and you can feel bad that I got a glorified paper cut, we can talk it to death and hope we come out okay on the other end...”

Tucker allowed a small smile at this, and Flynn wound her fingers in his.

“... or we can agree that it never happened, you can kiss me, and we can move on.”

Tucker stared at her for a long moment, his eyes glimmering in the dim moonlight.

“Flynn...”

“I think you know my vote.”

Finally, Tucker smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her lightly on the lips, but pulled back way too soon.

“Good. We’re agreed,” she said.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes, obviously tired. “Um, Freya and your dad were here, but I sent them back to the hotel to get some rest.”

“My dad was here?”

Tucker nodded. “Yeah. He flew in the second we got a hold of him.”

“Wow,” Flynn said. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Tucker said, smiling, “I told the nurses I was your brother so they’d let me stay.”

Flynn laughed. “Well, how’s that gonna look when they walk in on us making out?”

Tucker chuckled. Flynn reached up with her good arm and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down toward her for a long, comforting kiss. A moment later he pulled back and smiled down at her, and finally the darkness was out of his eyes and the perma-smile settled on his lips and he started to look like her Tucker.

My Tucker, she thought, and she shivered under the force of the emotion that rushed through her.

“Are you cold?” He hopped up off the bed and grabbed a bag from under the bed.

“I’m fine. Come back.”

He lifted the bag up, set it at the foot of her bed, and riffled through it. “No, when your dad and Freya were here with you, I got a little restless, so I drove back to the Arms and got some of your stuff. You know, the comfort of the familiar aiding with the healing process and all that stuff. Ah, here we go.”

He pulled out the purple afghan. Esther’s purple afghan. Flynn had seen it so many times, and it had never once occurred to her that it would be real.

But of course it was.

She laughed and took it from him, amazed at how soft it was under her fingers. “Oh, my God. Where’d you get that?”

He glanced at it, confused, then looked back at her. “It was in the bottom drawer of the armoire. It’s yours, right?”

Flynn stared at it for a long moment, then reached out and took Tucker’s hand in hers.

“Yeah,” she said, swiping at a happy tear. “It’s mine.”