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“You are at least 30 years tardy,” Stede said. He leaned against an obelisk, arms crossed. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Ed grinned. “Closer to 50, actually.”
“You look like I remember.”
“Could probably look like anything. I’ve learned a lot of ghost tricks.” He pulled Stede to him, marveling that they could hold each other now. “Like, I know how we can leave the graveyard. See some sights.”
“No. Really? No.”
“Really. But there’s something I want to do first?”
Stede’s hair was as soft as Ed had always imagined. His lips tasted like spring rain.