Page 111 of Molt

Nothing.

“HOW MANY?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” His voice shatters. He presses both hands against his face. “I’m sorry.”

I stare at him.

“I thought they were you.”

“I know.”

“I swear to God, Lenora...”

“Sarah.”

He stops.

The name seems to physically hurt him.

I hate that too.

“Sarah.”

My whole body trembles.

He tries again. “Sarah.”

And I start crying. Because hearing him say it feels like being buried. Not because the name is wrong. Because it’s right. Because for the first time since this began, someone has said my real name.

My original name.

Mine.

“I thought you were coming back,” August whispers. “Every time. I thought your soul...”

“There is no soul coming back.”

“I know.”

“You were falling in love with pieces of her.”

“Maybe.”

“With women who weren’t her.”

His eyes meet mine. “No.”

Anger flashes. “Don’t.”

“No.”

He moves closer but doesn’t touch me.

“Don’t take this away from yourself too.”

“What?”

“I didn’t fall in love with a ghost.”