A/N: Hello again everyone! A new chapter is here! :D

Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter. I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Side1ways, Guest, Anno1701, jessv96, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!

I hope you all enjoy!

I learned more about James over the next week.

He was a master at chess, something I'd already suspected but he proved even further. Every day we played at least two games after lunch, and every day, he beat me. Oftentimes he had me at checkmate within the first ten moves.

I also saw more of his twisted sense of humor, such as the instances he joked about him being dead. I laughed at his witty remarks, so I wasn't much better, I guess. He told me stories about his teenage years, of him and Alex 'running amuck' all over Ivy Grove. They'd had a tendency to sneak into places they shouldn't and take booze from his father's private collection.

He enjoyed playing the violin, but he hadn't been able to play for so long. I made a mental note to buy him one next time I came across one. I would love to hear him play.

So many things I'd learned, but the biggest one of all?

I was falling for him.

The realization smacked into me like a train one morning as we sat at the kitchen table, me drinking coffee and him reading the comics in the Sunday paper. He chuckled at something, and I looked up at him-looked at his smile and how there were tiny crinkles at the edges of his hazel eyes.

That's when I knew.

Somehow, I'd let down my barriers and welcomed him inside. It wasn't love, for I didn't know him that well yet. But the feeling was still strong.

My heart beat faster, my breaths came quicker, and my hands shook as I held my cup. I placed the coffee on the table and dropped my hands to my lap, so he wouldn't see them shaking.

"What are your plans today?" he asked, flipping the page.

"Writing." I cleared my throat. "Maybe go into town for groceries. I don't mind frozen dinners, but I'm tired of living off them."

James smirked. "I still don't know how you eat them. Food is supposed to be fresh, not jam-packed into a plastic container and frozen."

"Yeah? Tell that to my awful cooking skills. I can make an awesome lasagna, but only because all I do is pop it into the oven."

"I could cook you dinner."

I titled my head. "Really?"

I shouldn't have been too surprised. He was able to open doors, hold books, and move chess pieces. He'd even started making my morning coffee. Why wouldn't he be able to cook? It was just difficult to imagine him over a hot stove for some reason.

"I will take your shock as a compliment, good sir, but I will not accept any quips about me doing women's work." He arched a brow. A smile lingered in the corner of his mouth.

"No, that's not it at all. Men can cook. Some of the finest chefs in the world are men. I'm just surprised that a...forgive me for saying it, but that a ghost can cook."

James' face fell a little, and he folded up the newspaper.

"I'm sorry," I said, internally kicking myself. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't offend me by speaking the truth. I am a ghost." His body flickered, and for a moment, I could see through him. He steadied, though. The same couldn't be said for my racing heart. "Only, when I'm with you, Kendall, I don't feel like one." His gaze locked onto mine. "You make me feel alive again."

Strange that he made me feel the same. I was alive, but I hadn't felt as such in a long time. My days in New York had been robotic almost. That certainly explained the passionless writing and failed relationships, both personally and business-related.

And that thought led to another.

Maybe it wasn't the house that had given me an overwhelming sense of peace when I got here, but rather, the sad and lonely man who waited inside of it. As if my soul knew him before I ever laid eyes on him.

"Forgive me." James stood. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Wait." I reached out a hand and gently took hold of his wrist. It was only the second time I'd touched him, but he already felt so familiar. Like before, his skin began to warm the longer I held him. "You misunderstood my silence. I'm not upset, James. I...I feel the same about you. I don't know what it is about you, but I can't stay away."

"I don't wish for you to stay away," he whispered, not meeting my eyes. He slowly ran his fingertips over the back of my hand. His touch was like a winter wind blowing across my skin, and then that wind grew warmer. "Yet, some things cannot be."

My hand fell from his wrist as he stepped out of reach.

I felt colder without him touching me. Or maybe it was the cold snaking through my chest that made me feel that way.

After showering and dressing for the day, I decided to take a walk around the property to get my thoughts in order before writing. The morning air was crisp and dew stuck to the grass. More leaves had fallen, and as I walked beneath the tree in the yard, one landed on my shoulder. I grabbed it between my fingers and studied the intricate design of stem and veins snaking throughout the orange and yellow leaf.

And then I released it into the breeze, watching as it floated away.

The earthy smell of grass, leaves, and wood smoke grounded me as I went around to the greenhouse. I hadn't asked James why no one was able to open the doors, but I suspected he was the reason why.

He was the reason for a lot of things. The reason people feared the manor, and the reason it was the second most haunted place in Ivy Grove. He was also the reason for the knot in my chest.

Out of all the men I could fall for, why did it have to be someone out of my reach?

Why couldn't it be someone like Dak?

I liked Dak and found him attractive. I liked making him laugh and seeing his nose crinkle. But I didn't feel a spark when our eyes met. I didn't feel an unexplainable connection that made me want to reach out and pull him into my arms.

It was amidst my inner musings when I heard a soft click, and the greenhouse door suddenly opened.

Dumbfounded, I stared at it for a second. I'd tried countless times to get into that damn place and now it just randomly opened?

James appeared in the doorway. He fidgeted and worry lines were etched into his handsome face. "Would you like to see inside?"

"Yeah." I stepped forward, wondering why he was nervous.

Not much was inside, apart from metal racks that probably once held plants and a few tables that still did. I couldn't believe my eyes when taking in the plants; greenery and flowers. Lots of them. African violets, roses, and orchids-they all thrived.

"How?" I asked, walking closer to the roses and gently touching one.

"I care for them," James answered. He bent down to smell the orchids before smiling. "They bring me peace."

"Is that why you don't let anyone in here?"

He nodded. "This is my safe haven. I had no control over the families that moved into my manor, but I could control this. I'm fortunate none of them ever worked harder to get inside. Losing all of this would've devastated me."

There it was again: that overwhelming sensation of falling. Like when you're nearly asleep and wake with a start.

"You don't ever have to worry about losing it while I'm here," I said, placing my hand on his arm. My fingers chilled, but I kept holding onto him.

"While you're here," he repeated, gliding his fingertip along the soft petal of a rose. "And how long might that be?"

Forever, I wanted to say. Yet, I couldn't make a promise I wasn't sure I could keep.

"As long as I'm able," I responded instead. "I have no intention of moving, James. No place has ever felt more like home than this one."

James faced me. My breath caught in my throat as his mouth hovered mere inches away. Hazel eyes fell to my lips before lifting again.

"I trust you, Kendall Knight. I've opened my world to you. Please do not betray me."

"I would never betray you." My hand moved fro his forearm to his bicep and farther to the base of his neck. "I care about you, James. More than I should, even if I don't understand it."

Just like he'd done earlier, he stepped out of my reach.

"We must not become too familiar," he whispered, staring at the greenhouse floor.

The ache returned to my chest; I didn't think it ever left.

"Why?"

"You know why, Kendall." Finally, he lifted his gaze. "We don't come from the same world. I live in the shadows, and you in the light. When the two touch, they cancel the other out, you see."

"Then we can live in the dusk," I said, closing the gap between us. "Where day and night meet."

His brow wrinkled, and though hesitantly, he touched my chin. As his fingers moved along my jaw, I didn't take my eyes off him.

A part of me, one that grew smaller and smaller as the seconds ticked by, told me this wasn't normal. I shouldn't want to be with a ghost. A month ago I didn't even believe them to exist. However, I couldn't deny the way my heart fluttered in his presence, of how I looked forward to seeing him each morning.

"I won't have you be a prisoner here, too." His hand fell from my face. "I suggest you forget these feelings, whatever they might be."

"Is that what you really want?"

"Yes." But his eyes told another story.

I wouldn't push the matter further. For now.

"I should get to work," I said, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. "Will you join me in my office?"

"Of course. I must discover if Dr. Watson and Holmes solve the mystery of the hound."

"The books were published when you lived, right?" I exited the greenhouse, and he followed me.

"Yes, but Father wouldn't allow me to read them. He said they were utter nonsense and I shouldn't waste time filling my head with such drivel."

James walked beside me, and I couldn't help but think how odd it was to see him outside in the daylight. With the exception of the moments his body flickered, he appeared just as human as I did.

"Well, I have the whole collection. Help yourself to them whenever you like."

"Thank you."

I opened the front door and let him inside before entering the house behind him. "Can I ask you something?"

His expression was reluctant, but he nodded.

"When you first appeared in my office, you typed lines from a poem on my computer. I researched it after you left and found that it was part of the Love Songs collection by Sara Teasdale."

"Correct."

"What's so special about it?" It would've had to be special for him to have memorized the stanza.

James stopped walking. He stood near the bottom of the staircase and cast a glance upward. And then he sighed. The action was out of habit more than a necessity; he didn't have to breathe.

"Alex and I were supposed to go to war together," he said, sitting on the first step. "We signed up as soon as we were able. The poems were released in September of 1917. America had just entered the Great War in April, sending soldiers to France in October, and we were set to ship out in mid-November with another unit."

I sat beside him, not saying anything even though I wanted to.

"I came across the poem and read it to Alex one morning as we lay in bed. He'd played with my hair as I did, and when I finished, he said, 'I could've written that about you.' And I smiled and said the same."

Then, he quoted the same lines as before.

"But all remembered beauty is no more

Than a vague prelude to the thought of you

You are the rarest soul I ever knew."

"Why so sad, though?" I asked. "If you two were in love, why quote something that sounds like you're saying goodbye?"

"Because we were," James answered. "He was to marry a young woman named Lillian McAllister. We were to leave for war in the middle of November, and his wedding was to be one month prior. Long enough for them to make it official. We spent most of September memorizing the taste and feel of each other, knowing we wouldn't have much longer. My heart broke each time we made love. I knew I could never kiss him deep enough, hold him close enough. And when October arrived, we parted ways. He truly was the rarest soul I ever knew."

My eyes watered.

I'd been an asshole. My curiosity about Alex and James had seemed more like learning about the lives of fictional characters. It never sunk in that they were real, that they had loved and lost.

"I'm sorry, James. All the times I asked about Alex...how Dak and I pried through the attic trying to find anything about him. I was wrong to do so, and I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"If it's all right with you, Kendall, I would very much like you to know about Alex." James turned his head toward me, and his glassy eyes caught me off guard. I didn't know ghosts could cry. "I hid the journal under the loose floorboard in your bedroom. You can read it, if you wish.'

It had been so close this entire time.

"Are you sure?"

Nodding, he grabbed my hand. "Alex deserves to be remembered."

"So do you." I linked our fingers together. "No one even knows what happened to you, James. They say you went missing."

"Missing," he said with a humorless laugh. "I've been here all along. But that's a story for another day."

XxX

I found the journal under the floorboard beside the window. James had covered it in a white cloth, and with shaking hands, I unraveled it to reveal the leather binding.

"It's all right, Kendall."

"Now that I know you, it feels like I'm invading your privacy by reading it." I got to my feet and faced him.

"I trust you." Though it rang of sadness, he smiled and clasped my hands, journal between them. "And I want you to know all there is about me. This will provide you that. Perhaps one day you could tell mine and Alex's story. After all, what's a good ghost tale without romance?"

"Romance isn't my specialty."

He patted my hand before stepping away. "I'll leave you to your reading."

"You're not staying?"

But he was already gone.

I'd had every intention to work today, but this felt more important.

Sitting in the chair in the corner, I opened to the first page. James' handwriting was a bit scratchy but beautiful, too. I lightly ran my hand across the page before continuing where I left off in the first entry.

Two hours later, I hadn't moved from my spot. Engrossed in the journal was an understatement. Every month from August 1914 to October 1917 was included. Some entries were smaller than others, only half a page, and others went on longer. All detailing James' life, the good and the bad.

December 1915

Father is angry again. He was disappointed in dinner and threw his plate at my head. It still aches from where it caught me at the edge of my eye. It'll leave a nasty bruise, along with the shallow cut. He made me pick up the broken shards afterward and threatened to cut me with one if I didn't hurry it up.

I'm in the greenhouse now, writing this in the dark. The moon is helping me. They say there's a man in the moon. I wonder if he's watching me right now. If so, I hope he sends me his protection.

Father started drinking hours ago, and I fear what he might do if the urge strikes him to punish me again. Better for me to stay out of his way. I'm a man of seventeen, yet I still fear my Father's wrath. He seems to become worse every day. Angrier.

I wish Alex was here. He'd help me forget, at least for a while.

He makes everything better. He makes me laugh. When he grabs my hands, butterflies flap in my chest. Right where my heart is. I especially like it when he kisses my neck when we're making love.

The Bible says we're going to Hell for our appetites for each other. They preach it in church every Sunday. Abominations, they call us. Well not 'us,' for no one knows, but they say it in reference to men like us. I'm not certain I believe the words are true.

How could what Alex and I have be anything but good? We aren't hurting anyone.

I love him. And love isn't wrong.

My eyes grow heavy now. I should sleep. I brought a blanket and a pillow from my bed with me. It's cold tonight. Even though, according to the church, God hates me, I will say a prayer anyway that I wake in the morning.

Until then, the man in the moon will give me his light.

I wiped at the tears wetting my cheeks.

In my life, I'd had a few instances of homophobia and hateful slurs thrown my way, but for the most part, I'd been lucky.

Men like James couldn't say the same. If anyone had discovered him and Alex's relationship, both of them would've been thrown in prison and probably beaten to death while in there. A happy ending for them would have only been possible by them living together in secret.

My heart broke for James. For Alex, too.

I stopped reading just long enough to grab lunch and stretch my legs then I went right back to the journal. Another hour passed, and I cried my way through many of the entries. I couldn't hold back the tears as James described his father beating him to within an inch of his life. He had often hid in the greenhouse, praying his father wouldn't find him.

No wonder he called it his safe haven.

Though many of the entries broke my heart, some of them made it feel lighter. I enjoyed the passages where he described things he and Alex did, some of it I recognized from the stories James told me about them running around town causing trouble. Those entries made me smile. It felt so carefree and innocent.

Like when James described Alex dragging him to an old junkyard…

Alex took hold of both my hands and leaned in to whisper, "Do you wish to fly, James?"

I'd been drinking a little and giggled at him. "Yes. Can you give me wings?"

"I would give you the moon if I could," he answered before kissing the knuckles on my right hand. "And the stars too, for the moon and the stars cannot live apart. Much like you and me."

"We'll always be together, Edward Alexander Jones," I said, and I believe a hummingbird lived in my chest by the way my heart fluttered.

"Yes, we will," Alex said. "Hold on tight."

And then he spun me around in circles, going so fast the junkyard blurred around us. All I saw was Alex laughing. All I felt was his hands on mine. We yelled to the night sky like a pack of wolves and laughed, spinning and spinning.

So long I wished I could grow wings and fly away...and now I have.

"Edward Alexander," I said, having a major lightbulb moment.

Dak said his great-great grandfather's name was Edward. If Alexander was his middle name, that explained why Dak hadn't heard about him.

"You see now, don't you?"

I jumped at the voice and turned to see James standing beside the dresser.

"Apologies for startling you." He moved closer. "Alex married Lillian, and they had two children together. Such a beautiful family."

I did the math in my head and it didn't add up. "But you weren't around to see that family, were you? You went missing in late October of 1917, only weeks before you were supposed to leave for the war."

"Correct." James straightened his shoulders and held his head higher. "Alex went to war, and thankfully, he returned in one piece a year later. Though, I was certain his mind wasn't the same. Lillian had given birth to a baby boy while he was away. Their daughter was born a year after that. His children were spitting images of him. I was jealous at first, I won't lie, but he looked...happy. And if anyone deserves happiness, it's him."

I was about to ask how he could see all of that if he was missing at the time, but the answer became obvious.

"You didn't go missing...did you? You were killed."

He stared at me, his jaw clenched.

"Have you finished it?" James asked, avoiding my question.

"No. I have a few entries left." I placed the journal on the side table and stood, groaning softly as my joints popped. "I'll continue tomorrow. I need a drink."

"That bad, is it?" James walked at my side as I left the bedroom.

"Your father was a horrible person. It's hard to read it. I can't imagine a parent treating their child that way."

James was quiet as we descended the stairs. If he didn't want to talk about it, I wouldn't push him.

"So," I said, pouring a glass of whiskey. "Are you mad at Alex?"

"Mad at him? Why would you ever think such a thing?"

"Well, he married Lillian. Had kids with her."

"He didn't want to." James stood at the window, staring at the deep red and purple sky as the sun sunk below the horizon. "He asked me to run away with him. It was early October before he was to be wed, and he showed up outside my window in tears, begging me to talk. We hadn't seen each other in a week prior to that. I was only wearing my nightshirt, but he was too frantic. I put on my slippers and ran outside to him."

James' bottom lip trembled.

"He pulled me into his arms and kissed me beside the greenhouse," he continued. "He was crying. So was I. 'I don't want her,' he said, clinging to me. 'All I want is you. Run away with me.' I told him no. I wouldn't be the reason he lived a half-life." Glassy hazel eyes met mine. "So many times I've regretted that decision, Kendall. We might not have had the perfect life, but we would've been together. Would've been happy."

"You told him to marry her."

"Yes. Perhaps this makes me a wicked person, but I thought I'd have more time with him. We'd be leaving for war, you see, and I knew he'd be by my side and not hers. Adultery is not only a sin, but a crime. But so was the fact that I loved him. I had been willing to let him go after we said goodbye at the end of September. But as we stood together, kissing and crying, I knew a part of me would never let him go. I was selfish."

"I probably would've done the same."

"Would you really?" he asked. "I suppose it doesn't matter. All notions of accepting his marriage faded away when he was actually wed. That was a very bad day. He came to me, though, and we talked it through. He said he hadn't bedded her yet, and that made me happy, selfishly so. When I found out weeks later that he had slept with her...well, it's all a blur."

"What did he do when you went missing?"

"I know what you're doing, Kendall, and I will not fall for the trick. I don't wish to discuss my death. Is that too hard to understand?" With the rising of his voice, his body flickered in and out, like an old TV trying to find the right channel. "I'm opening myself to you, but it has to be on my terms, Kendall Donald Knight."

I flinched at the anger in his tone.

"I'm sorry. It just fucking breaks my heart to know something horrible happened to you here and no one even knows about it."

"That's my burden to bear, not yours."

"Let me carry it with you."

"No. When I'm ready for you to know, you will."

"Why can't you tell me now? I mean, you've told me all about fucking Alex. Why not this, too?"

"Because! I can't say the words yet. And do not talk about Alex in such a way! Fucking was the farthest thing from what we had together, and I'll be damned if you speak ill of him. Now leave me be."

James stormed out of the kitchen, and in his anger, pictures flew off the walls.

Great, a ghost throwing a temper tantrum.

"Hey! Stop breaking my shit!"

Plates flew out of the cabinet and smashed to the floor.

"Oh, how mature, James Issac Diamond. Don't forget, I know your full name too, buddy."

I drank more whiskey before refilling the glass and taking it-along with the bottle-into the living room. I sat on the couch and stared at the flat-screen TV I hardly ever used. And then, just to spite the temperamental ghost who had gone invisible, I put on Ghostbusters.

After finishing my drink, I poured another. More followed until I was good and buzzed.

James had every right to be mad. He needed time before he talked about his death, and instead of accepting that, I'd pushed him until he'd snapped. I also shouldn't have said that about Alex. I guess my own jealousy had come through a little. With my newfound feelings for James, I didn't like the thought of him being with someone else, much less talking about it.

I hoped he could forgive me.

I fell asleep on the couch sometime after midnight and woke the next morning with a nasty crick in my neck.

A blanket had been draped over me.

Even while mad, he'd still cared enough to make sure I didn't freeze. The action warmed my chest and made me feel even more like an asshole for how I'd treated him the previous night.

When I pulled myself off the couch and went into the kitchen, a pot of coffee waited for me. The glass from the broken plates had been cleaned, too.

Looks like I'm forgiven after all.

"Morning, Kendall."

I jumped as James appeared directly in front of me.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Oh, I apologize." His wide-eyed look rang of innocence, but that damn smirk in the corner of his mouth gave him away.

"Uh-huh." I walked around him to grab a mug and pour my coffee. "It's okay. I deserved it. I'm sorry for the things I said to you."

James bowed his head. "Forgiven." He followed me to the table. "I read more of Holmes and Watson while you slept. They, indeed, solved the mystery of the hound's alleged curse."

"Thank goodness for that." I smiled around my cup as I took a drink.

"I should inform you that I hid the journal again."

"Why?"

Shadows lingered in his eyes. "Because I'm not ready for you to read the final entry. The entry itself is painful to remember, but it's what follows it that I'm not yet prepared to discuss with you."

"If that's what you want."

"It is." James straightened the sleeve on his shirt. "Besides, you need to work, and I will not let my journal be a distraction."

He had a point there.

"Okay."

A while later, I went to my office and he followed. And we eased into a comfortable silence together, me typing away on my laptop and him with his nose buried in a book.

It was peaceful.

Done! So, a pretty eventful chapter, but you all got a look into James' past and his relationship with Alex!

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as f you happened to have a favorite part/moment!

Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are staying safe out there! As usual, the next chapter of this will be up some time next week. I hope you all have a great weekend!

Until then!

-Epically Obsessed