The Guest House Hauntings Boxset by Hazel Holmes (novel books to read txt) 📕

be the best man he could be for her, but she deserved a man who wasn’t seeing his dead father, who wasn’t losing his mind. He wanted to be strong for her, well for her. He didn’t want her to see him as a weak, vulnerable, unstable man. He didn’t want her to see him like his father saw him.

“Thanks for setting the table,” Clara said as she brought the food out. Sunlight stretched through the windows, reminding Ezra he was awake now. It was a beautiful day. No ghosts were going to grab him, and they were living the best life. They were working towards a great future.

“Thank you for cooking.” Ezra kissed her and some of the fear faded. They were together, no matter what. He knew nothing he could tell her would drive her away. Though he wasn’t so sure that it wouldn’t change how she saw him. Certainly, there were things that could change how she felt about him.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled. “I know you have a lot to do today, but I want you to at least try to take it somewhat easy. I know losing your father, starting a new business, and moving has all been a lot on you. I’m sure you’re tired and stressed. I don’t want you to get burnt out or overwhelmed. You’ve got to take care of yourself, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, though her words unsettled him. How much did she know? It seemed she was aware of what happened last night, though there was no way she could be. Unless… had she seen the ghost too?

He hoped she had. It would make everything so much easier if he weren’t in this alone. Maybe she saw him at a different time and was just waiting to see if Ezra would bring it up. Then they could talk about it together. Deal with this together.

They sat at their table, now covered with a black lace tablecloth that went well with the grey walls. Clara wanted to paint them purple to add some color against the dark floor. As she reached for some fruit, her mind went wild with all the renovation ideas she had in mind. They’d put in old-fashioned candle holders on the walls that would go perfectly with their black antique china cabinet. When guests joined them for breakfast, they’d be transported back to an earlier era romanticized for their benefit.

She was distracted, she didn’t notice Ezra shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Thoughts of renovations were far from his mind. Ghosts didn’t leave room for any other speculations and dreams.

“Where is all this coming from though?” Ezra asked hesitantly, bringing Clara back to their conversation. “I just got up. I haven’t mentioned being overwhelmed or anything.”

Clara blushed as she looked down at her breakfast. It looked like she had been caught in something. Ezra’s hopes soared unrealistically. She knew, she had to know. He didn’t have to worry about telling her because she already knew. That’s how in sync they were.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I just noticed last night you seemed to be having trouble sleeping…”

Of course. Hope fell as he realized he probably had kept her up all night thanks to his tossing and turning. She hadn’t seen the ghost of his father, only he had seen that. If he had seen that. Now that was the real problem. Had he seen what he thought he saw? Should he tell her?

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to talk this through with someone. He wanted someone to understand, and he typically told her everything. Clara was his best friend. But he cared about her opinion more than anyone else’s and that made it most difficult.

“Did I keep you up?” he asked, buying a bit of time.

“Not really,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.

“I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I tried to relax before bed, but you’re right. It’s all been a lot.”

“I know it has been, but I’m here for you. Today’s going to be better.” She took his hand, kissed it.

When he smiled, Clara finally noticed something was off. She couldn’t quite narrow down exactly what it was. She just had this odd feeling that something else was bothering Ezra. The look on his face made it seem like he was holding something back. The way he diverted his gaze looked like something on his mind was making him incredibly uncomfortable.

“Is there something else there?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just assuming what caused your sleepless night, what’s contributing to all this stress, but is there something I’m missing? I obviously can’t read your mind, so what’s going on up there?”

She sat there, so willing to listen, and Ezra desperately wanted someone to talk to. Yet he was so afraid. He was afraid of hallucinating. Afraid of seeing ghosts. He was afraid of not being the kind of husband Clara deserved.

“It’s just been tough,” he admitted.

“How so?”

“Well, like you said before, there’s been a lot going on and… I don’t know. The feeling that my father is watching me… I think it’s strengthened, maybe due to the pressure. It’s evolved into something else. Something more solid and tangible.”

Clara could see Ezra was trying to communicate something to her underneath his layered words, but she couldn’t fully understand. Something was making him horribly uncomfortable. She’d never seen him quite like this and she wanted to do anything she could to help.

His spiral lately was concerning. His mental health was certainly taking a hit. But she was a little bit at a loss at what to do or how to help. It seemed so rapid and out of nowhere, she couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on.

“Ezra, what do you mean?” she asked. “I’m here for you, okay? No matter what. You can talk to me about it. I just want to help you.”

They looked at each other, wanting to bridge the gap. It was scarier