Page 28 of Ghost Hunted

“I’m sorry. I hurt you. Was I hurting you?” I let go, and a pang of guilt courses through me when I see the red marks on her face that will probably turn into a bruise.

“Do you really forgive me?” I murmur.

“Yes, Logan. I’m sorry, Logan.”

Her eyes are fixed on some distant point, as if she’s trying really hard not to look at me.

“You’re scared of me,” I murmur. “You never used to be scared of me.”

She bites her lip. “No, I don’t think that’s true, Logan. I think I remember being very scared of you.”

Yes, I guess she was. I suddenly realize I spent these past years constructing a much happier version of our past. A rose-tinted one, one where I wasn’t responsible for hurting her again and again and again.

It made it easier to grieve her when I could trick myself into believing I was the source of her happiness.

And now, I’ve hurt her yet again.

“Yes, I guess you were scared of me. But you were a brat to me all the same.” I smirk—or try to. “Remember, baby?”

She nods slowly. “Yes. I’m sorry, Logan.”

“Please don’t be. I want you to be my little brat again. You know I always loved it when you were my brat.”

She nods again. “I meant… I’m sorry. I don’t think I can be that for you anymore.”

“Lia.” My voice comes out needy. “Please don’t say that. Let’s try again. I want to make it right.”

“I mean…” She pauses, as if speaking is a chore for her. “What I mean is that I can’t be that girl. The girl you loved. I don’t have it in me anymore. I’ve forgotten… I’ve forgotten how to be her. If you really want me, you can have me. Or you can kill me. Or you can let me go. I don’t… I don’t think it matters. I don’t really know anymore.”

“Baby.” I squeeze her to me so hard we both wince. “Don’t talk like that. You’re freaking me out.”

“I don’t mean to. I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I just… my mind isn’t right. I can’t really understand whether I’m asleep, or awake, or anything. I don’t know.”

“I understand.” I don’t, but I’m going to try my hardest. “I can fix it. I can make it okay.” I thread my hands through her curls, avoiding the bald patches, keeping her as close to me as I can.

I hold her for a long time, running my fingers up and down her back. At last, she gives in to my caresses, and her quiet breathing tells me that, even if she doesn’t believe we can work, at least, she’s not fighting it.

She’s accepting it passively, and that’s a start. The next step is to make her want it. To help her believe she can have it.

A tiny bubble of hope rises in me as I wonder if maybe I haven’t lost time. Maybe I’ve gained it.

A second chance.

I breathe in her curls, and this time, I don’t avoid the reddened bald patches. I kiss each of them in turn. I need to remind myself that I did that to her. I threatened her with a gun. I was so cruel she jumped, and the only way I could save her was by hurting her.

What if I hadn’t caught her?

I shudder at the thought.

“Do you think it’ll grow back?”

“Hmm?”

“My hair. Do you think it’ll grow back?”

“It doesn’t matter, ghost girl. You’ll always be beautiful.” I rest my head against hers. “In a way, I hope it doesn’t. I want to remember how cruel I’ve been. I promise you, Lia, it’s the last time I’ll ever be cruel to you. I’ll take good care of you from now on.”

She doesn’t react, and my heart breaks a little.