Ascension, Bailey Bradford [best novel books to read .txt] 📗

were stroking over it. Was Conner looking, remembering? Did one remember who and what they were when they died, if they stayed on Earth?

So many questions, and Ro couldn’t ask them. Even if he could, Conner couldn’t answer. He thought it had to be Conner there with him, though the why of Conner’s appearance eluded him.

The picture shook, then it was snapped hard, the edges of it going taut just before it dropped to the bed. There was an almost palpable withdrawal of the force that’d been there, like a vacuum sucking power out of the room, and Ro knew he was alone again. Alone, and rattled, and in dire need of a hand-vac, because Conner had shredded every damn piece of paper except the one with his picture on it. Ro was grateful for that, at least.

Chapter Four

So much for thinking he didn’t get bent out of shape over his past. Conner huddled in the corner of Ro’s room, shrinking down into the smallest, darkest patch of shadows he could find. He’d thought—well, it didn’t matter what he’d thought.

Conner had been bored, and remembered that he should try to check in on Alma and Roger more often, and Ro, of course. Alma had looked perilously close to crossing over to his side of existence, or on to Heaven or Hell or wherever. It’d been too depressing, so Conner had popped in on Ro and found the young man a mess.

A very sexy mess, and Conner had wanted to comfort him. He ached in a way he couldn’t remember feeling, though it reminded him of Laine for some weird reason. Before he knew it, he had been stroking Ro’s hair. Conner had had to concentrate, but he’d managed to feel the silky strands, the warmth of a living body close to his ethereal one. Faint beginnings of arousal had begun shortly thereafter, causing Conner’s dick to fill. That had been surprising, although he’d been turned on sometimes when he’d peeked on Laine and Sev. Just, it hadn’t ever been enough to make him truly horny. Sex hadn’t been a pressing need in years, obviously, but Conner had found himself suddenly wanting to bury his hard cock in Ro’s ass.

Which, in turn, had made him feel like a total perv. Conner hadn’t been able to leave even then. Maybe, if he’d just been wanting to fuck Ro, he could have, but there were memories of Ro over the past years that had embedded themselves in Conner’s heart. He’d kept away from Ro for so long, especially after that one time he’d peeked and found Ro in the alley behind Virginia’s Café with that…that scumbag. Conner had wanted to kill the man fucking Ro’s sweet mouth. It had infuriated him, and had scared him because of the intensity of his reaction.

Conner had told himself it was because he’d watched Ro grow up, but there, in Ro’s bathroom, Conner had kind of faced the truth. It was depressing and awful, but he thought he might be a little bit in love with Ro. Maybe it was just years of familiarity, or maybe it was simply loneliness. Conner knew Ro was lonely. How could he not be? And Conner himself was finding out that he wanted more than just to haunt and tease his living friends. He was glad to help them, and happy to have saved their lives a few times—but he was dead, and they weren’t. They all had someone, and he had…Stefan, who was a good friend, along with some other spirits. Was that all he’d ever get to have?

He’d freaked upon seeing the file Ro had on him. The clippings were old, Conner had seen the dates on some of them. Something inside him had snapped. He didn’t want Ro pitying him, and didn’t want Ro thinking of him as the poor, dumb idiot who’d gotten himself tied up and carved into pieces.

Seeing the picture of himself had been like being tossed from a hot skillet into a bucket of ice. Conner had had such a mix of emotions in him then as he’d looked at that picture, and now as he thought about it. He tried really hard not to think about what-ifs or dwell on regrets for past mistakes. All that did was depress him.

But seeing himself in that picture—he’d kind of forgotten what he’d looked like. It was odd, really. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen his own reflection since he’d come into his current state of existence. He was sure he had an appearance, because he saw Stefan and other spirits. They looked like people to him, like living people except the colors of them were muted somewhat. And, of course, they could go all in spirit form, floating and disappearing, turning into balls of light or ripples of color on the breeze.

Had he just not cared to see himself? Could he see himself? That was easier to deal with than thinking about Ro and the confusing feelings that had arisen then. Conner zipped over to Sev and Laine’s. He immediately felt like a self-centered asshole when he saw Laine holding Sev on the couch as Sev cried quietly.

Shit. He must have got an update on Alma. Conner didn’t hesitate, making his way to his friends and sending out comforting thoughts as he concentrated on touching them both. Death was a hard thing to deal with, and he wished he could do something for them.

“If…” Sev sniffled and rubbed his nose on Laine’s chest before continuing. “Conner, if she joins you, tell me, okay? Can… Can you make her stay, like you did?”

Conner found the words he wanted—they always seemed to be floating in the air when he tried to speak to someone who was alive—and pushed the words at Sev. “No. I don’t even know how I ended up here. If I could, I would do anything to help you.”

It was strangely like growing up, a rapid maturation that