The rain fell soft on the cracked pavement of Wi
llowbrook.
Jack “Reaper” Mallory stood at the edge of town,
trench coat soaked, eyes glowing faintly blue b
eneath the brim of his hat.
He was home.
But the war had left him changed.
“Jack?”
He turned.
Lena Hart stood frozen on the porch of her fathe
r’s diner, apron fluttering in the breeze. Her l
ips parted like she wanted to speak, but couldn’
t.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” she said final
ly.
“I didn’t plan to,” he said. “But the dead don’t
stay buried forever.”
She stepped off the porch.
He could smell the fear beneath her perfume.
“You’re not the only one who changed,” she whisp
ered.
Then she kissed him.
And the world went still.
A car horn blared.
They pulled apart.
Jack saw the ring on her finger.
Diamond. Huge.
“Lena…”
“I’m engaged,” she said, voice shaking. “To Etha
n.”
Jack’s stomach dropped.
Ethan Cross. Billionaire. Quarterback. Best frie
nd.
Dead man walking.
Jack turned and walked away.
He couldn’t look at her anymore.
That night, Jack sat alone in the old jazz club,
now shuttered and silent.
The piano still stood in the corner, dust dancin
g in the moonlight.
He remembered the nights before the war—drinks,
jazz, Lena laughing in Ethan’s arms.
His drink glowed faintly green.
Zombie metabolism. Always messing with the liquo
r.
“Still brooding in corners like a ghost?”
Jack looked up.
Ethan leaned against the bar, tie loose, eyes sh
arp.
“You knew I was back.”
“I did.”
“And you still married her?”
“I love her,” Ethan said. “And she loves me.”
Jack’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t even know what love is.”
Ethan smirked.
“I know what loyalty is.”
Jack stood.
The room grew colder.
“You think you deserve her?”
“I think she chose me,” Ethan said. “While you w
ere rotting in some foreign grave.”
Jack lunged.
Ethan didn’t flinch.
“You think I’m afraid of you?” Ethan said. “You’
re my brother. You always were.”
Jack stopped.
His hands trembled inches from Ethan’s throat.
“You don’t get to be the hero,” Jack said. “You
never did.”
“No,” Ethan said. “You always did.”
The next morning, Lena found Jack in the cemeter
y.
He was kneeling at his own grave.
“You didn’t have to come,” he said without looki
ng.
“I did,” she said. “I need to know why you left.
”
Jack stood slowly.
“You were never supposed to be mine,” he said. “
I knew that. Still, I let you kiss me. I let mys
elf believe…
”
“I love him,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“But I also love you.”
Jack turned.
Her eyes were red.
“I’m not human anymore,” he said. “I don’t sleep
. I don’t eat. I don’t heal unless I want to. An
d I don’t die.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
She reached for his hand.
He pulled away.
“I’m not the same girl who waited for you,” she
said.
“I’m not the same man who left,” he said. “But I
still remember the way you used to look at me.”
“You were my first love,” she said. “Maybe my on
ly real one.”
Jack turned to leave.
“Then why are you walking away?”
He stopped.
“Because I won’t destroy what you have,” he said
. “Even if it kills me.”
Later that week, the town was thrown into chaos.
A fire at the mill.
No survivors.
Jack was the last seen there.
Ethan found him in the rubble, pulling a child f
rom the ruins.
“You’re not a monster,” Ethan said.
Jack wiped ash from his face.
“I try not to be.”
“Then stop running from us,” Ethan said. “From h
er.”
Jack looked at him.
“You’d let her go?”
“No,” Ethan said. “But I’d share her. If that’s
what she wants.”
Lena arrived with the fire trucks.
She saw them—Jack and Ethan, standing side by si
de like they used to.
She ran to them.
“I can’t choose,” she said. “Not between you two
.”
Jack stepped back.
“We don’t have to choose,” Ethan said.
Jack looked at him like he’d grown a second head
.
“You’re both my family,” Lena said. “And I’m not
letting either of you go.”
Jack’s chest tightened.
“Is that even possible?”
“It is,” Lena said. “If we’re honest. If we’re t
ogether.”
He looked at Ethan.
Ethan nodded.
Jack exhaled, though he didn’t need to.
“I love you,” he said to her.
“I know,” she said. “And I love you both.”
The town never really understood what happened a
fter that.
But the diner thrived.
The club reopened.
Jazz filled the streets again.
And in the corner booth, a zombie, a quarterback
, and their woman laughed like ghosts finally fr
ee.
