CHAPTER NINETEEN
I
can see ghosts.
In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the best way to begin. A smarter strategy would have been to ease him into the conversation, offering him minor examples with explanations to nudge him to what his brain had already deduced—something impossible.
In all fairness to Manuel, I’d lived this story and still hadn’t admitted anything out loud until just now.
Manuel paced across the room while I snuggled under his comforter, pulling my legs up into his computer chair until I’d cocooned every part of myself.
After I’d dropped the bombshell, it’d been obvious he needed a minute, so I suggested we move the conversation.
I’d redressed, handed him the wet articles, and kept my distance from the star furniture of the room. Despite heavy exhaustion, my mind continued to scream about how strange and new this situation was, ergo, avoiding the bed like the plague. Even eye contact with it was taboo.
I studied Manuel’s walls instead. So far, I’d deduced he enjoyed basketball—duh—soccer, and a bilingual band with the words, “Don’t Break Mi Corazón,” emblazoned across a still shot of the main singer performing on stage.
If I’d taken more than four Spanish classes, I might have been able to do more than just recognize the language.
Manuel sighed then resumed wearing a hole in his carpet.
I blinked, a sluggish movement that threatened to transition into catching a snooze. I pinched myself and sat straighter, fighting the coziness. One thing about having short hair was that it’d already dried, another reason I had to battle the allure of sleep.
On Manuel’s sixth pace, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Ah, Manuel? This is kind of my first time talking about this, so can you please say something?”
The statement seemed more palatable to Manuel, and he focused on it. “Wait, you haven’t told anyone?”
I made myself maintain eye contact, despite wanting to shrug it off. “No.”
He blew out his breath. “Not even Ben when you two got together?”
Ouch, that cut straight to the heart. “Not even Ben.”
“Then the others? Kole, Ralph, or Hunter?”
“No…” I paused. “But maybe soon.”
He didn’t ask why, just nodded. “So your parents and me.”
The thought sent an ice pick through my soul. “No, I mean it. Only you.”
His jaw slackened. “But that’s… Your watch… Did your parents give it to you?”
“Yes, mostly my mom. She’s a nurse and wanted alerts if I was in danger.”
“So they know about the symptoms, but not about…” He wiggled his fingers like a kid attempting to be spooky.
“No, not about the ghosts.”
“So only me.”
A tired smile tugged at one side of my mouth. “That’s what I said.”
Manuel digested that, looking inordinately pleased. “So if your mom gets the alerts, will she message you about the attack today? Why hasn’t she knocked down my door yet?”
“I adjusted the notifications that automatically alerted her the other day.” Was it petty and likely dangerous? Probably. Mom could ground me when she found out. The cuts from our argument would take ages to staunch the bleeding.
“Duly noted.” Manuel shook his head. “Why wouldn’t you tell your parents?”
“Because I’m terrified of being locked up? They’d toss me in the loony bin.”
He scoffed. “They wouldn’t—” He cut off at my expression, his features twisting in horror. “Wait, they would?”
“They did. Vedault this summer, and my mom wants me to see a therapist. That’s why I muted the notification sharing. We had a big fight about it.”
Manuel exhaled as he flopped onto his bed, then he almost immediately sprang back up. “So, hold on, that’s a lot of bombshells you dropped. Start from the top.”
I edited the parts about the mayor, instead saying that I couldn’t identify the person who tried to kill me.
“But you think this same man is the one who killed Ben?”
“Yes. His brake lines were cut just the same as mine were.”
“That wasn’t in the newspaper.”
“No, the police kept it to themselves.”
“Then how do you…” He trailed off. “Chief Pierce.”
“Yes, Ben’s dad. He thinks I did it. What didn’t make the newspapers is that the police detained me for questioning after they tracked me in the woods, and during the questioning, Pierce hit me—”
“Wait, what? He actually hit you?”
The protective edge in his voice brought a healing grin to my face.
“Hard enough to knock me out and send me to the hospital. When I woke up, one officer who witnessed everything was there, threatening me into silence. They promised the chief would stay quiet too. They said he wouldn’t discuss Vedault or getting arrested or accuse me of killing his son, and I didn’t tell the world the chief caused my coma in front of a dozen witnesses.
Poking holes in my story pokes holes in theirs. ”
Manuel was sharp. “But… Urena, she knows, doesn’t she? In the hallway when she was flipping out, you looked white as a ghost, no pun intended.”
“Yeah, she knows. Not the paranormal stuff or having a stalker killer, but she bought Chief Pierce’s view of the story. It’s only a matter of time before she starts singing.”
He deflated on a sigh. “That’s… That’s so messed up.”
“Yeah.”
Manuel crossed his arms. “That’s why Pierce showed up at school. He figured you’d spill to the… Who was that?”
“Veritas?” I guessed.
“It’s veras. Your Spanish is atrocious, and, yes, of course, the truth. Why stop now? If I wasn’t going to believe you—”
“No, I mean his name—Agent Veritas. He’s from the FBI. What? What’s that look for?”
He shook himself. “I mean, no, of course there are secret agents. After cover-ups, ghosts, and murder, why wouldn’t there also be an FBI aspect?”
“Technically, I think he’s a special agent, not a secret agent.”
He cast me a deadpan look.
Manuel’s blanket felt like a hug, and it smelled like him, identical to the hoodie he’d allowed me to reclaim with a distracted half smirk. “I’m sorry.”
He jerked to a halt. “What in the world are you sorry for?”
“For springing this on you all at once? You sound a little overwhelmed.”
His shoulders shook. He’d hidden his face in his hands, so I didn’t know he was laughing until he lifted his head. “It’s not funny.”
“No,” I agreed, blinking so much my eyes were open more than shut. The adrenaline of the situation ebbed away, and drowsiness returned.
Manuel made a concerted effort to steel himself.
I scooted down in the chair, reclining against the headrest.
“So,” he began once he’d gotten his spontaneous bout of stress-induced chuckles under control, “Ben is a ghost.”
“I don’t know.” The lethargy diminished, and I ran my fingers through my short hair. “Sometimes I think I hear his voice, but I’m still grieving too. It could be my imagination or a coping mechanism. I haven’t seen him since I escaped.”
“He could have moved on, if that’s a thing,” Manuel offered as he sat down. “Damn. Ghosts.”
“Yeah. Ghosts.”
Manuel glanced at me. “You’re exhausted. Do those attacks take a lot out of you?”
I nodded, rubbing my cheek against the plush material. “Usually only food helps.”
“Usually?”
I cleared my throat. “Ah…”
“You’re blushing.” A slow, smirking smile stretched his lips.
Pointing the fact out catapulted my face into supernova territories.
“Oh!” He laughed. “I have to know now. Is true love’s kiss the cure?”
If I’d had anything to launch at him, I would have done so. “No!”
He seemed amused by my vehement denial. “Well, what is it then? What has you all shy on me, mouse?”
I mumbled.
He wore a shit-eating grin, leaning closer and cupping his ear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Physical touch, okay?” I admitted.
“Hah! And you dismissed me when I guessed true love’s kiss. Willa, that’s essentially the same thing.”
“No,” I countered. This was my hill to die on, apparently. “I don’t know if it’s one specific person or not. It could be all touch that helps. It isn’t something I’ve explored extensively. I’m not exactly the most touchy-feely person.”
“Shame.”
I ducked my head inside the blanket entirely while he laughed. After a bit, I joined him. It eased some of the stress. The entire day had been chaotic, and to talk about everything with someone who hadn’t run for the hills immediately? It seemed like a hyper realistic dream.
“Did it help?”
His question lured me from the covers where I’d nodded off once more. “The bath?”
“Well, I know that worked. I meant before, when you refused to let go of my hand.”
And there was the rush of heat to my face.
“Ah, so it did.” His brows lowered, and a smug grin emerged. He looked pleased as punch. “So when you said you were unsure, it’s because you’ve only tested it out with me?”
I groaned. “No, I… Ben might have had the same effect, but I never made the connection. Honestly, until today, I couldn’t be confident that anything helped. Eating food? Definitely, but… my parents have held me through an attack. Nick too.”
“Your brother, I’m guessing?”
“Yeah. It never worked with them.” In fact, I’d been almost positive. It’d have been something I would remember.
“So maybe Ben, but definitely me?”
“Yeah, three times this week, my watch has alerted me about a temperature drop, and twice, the episode stopped entirely.”
“But not today.”
“No, not today. Normally, the symptoms don’t get that bad. It was possibly stress related.”
“Could be. Come here.” He patted the spot next to him.
On his bed.
“Why?”
“You admitted my touch helps. I don’t want to ever see you suffering through another one of those, but especially not today. If they are tied to your stress levels, then it wouldn’t hurt for me to stick close to you, just in case.”
I gave him a look that said I wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid. “Just in case. Really?”
He winked. “Scout’s honor.”
“That’s the wrong hand.”
He switched, holding up an incorrect number of fingers this time. “Whoops?”
Despite my hesitation, I wanted to for more than one reason. I popped my feet out and shuffled to the bed, stiffening when he slid my entire cocooned body farther up to rest against the pillows before settling at my side.
My heart raced.