“I bring you peace,” he says.
“Right.”
“You’ve heard people say that people bring them peace and that they’ve found home with them before.”
“Yes.”
“I thought that’s how you meant it. I thought you were speaking metaphorically. Not literally.”
I glance at Ryan again. “I can mean it both ways.”
“You can, but my point is, you mean it literally. For some reason, my presence silences him. That’s what you meant all the times you told me I bring you peace.”
“Yes, that’s what I meant.” I look at the triplets. At Daddy Jalon. Wondering what’s going on.
“His ghost follows you,” Gracen says, his voice even. Light.
His words make me look up at Ryan. “Is he a ghost?” I wonder out loud. Does he look like a ghost? Images of spirits covered in sheets flash before my eyes. Ryan is whole, though. He looks just as he had in life, but… slightly transparent. He’s not really there. He’s in my head.
“Is he real?” I ask.
“I think maybe he is,” Gracen says. “I think he never gives you peace. I think he’s still trying to control you, and because he can’t, he says untrue things to you.”
“What’s untrue?”
“That you’re being sinful,” Ellory says.
My breath catches.
“Dirty. You’re going to hell.”
I close my eyes. “Do you hear him?” I whisper.
“No,” Ellory answers. “These are things you’ve said as if you’re repeating them. I thought you were saying them from memory. Things he said to you when he was alive.”
I shake my head. “He never told me those things when he was alive. I was his good boy. He loved me. But he’s dead now, and I didn’t follow him into death like I was supposed to.”
Gracen touches my cheek. “You weren’t supposed to follow him in death, Malin. You were supposed to live. To take your life back. To heal. Johnston is preventing that, isn’t he?”
I swallow. My shoulders tense as I nod. It’s small, as I try to hide it from Ryan, but he doesn’t miss it. His yelling is beginning to bleed through the bubble that Gracen’s shirt had created.
“I found a psychic medium. Someone who should be able to see Johnston and help you get rid of him.”
“I’m not going anywhere! You’re mine, William. Do you hear me? You’re fucking mine, and no one will take you from me!”
I wince, bowing my head. Gracen’s fingers on my chin gently coax my eyes to his. “Are you comfortable meeting him?”
Swallowing, I press my face into his shirt. “Yes,” I whisper.
Gracen stands. He pulls his shirt over his head and hands it to me. Grateful, I untangle the one around my head and hand it back to him so I can bury my face in this one. Ryan is silent again. Some of the tension leaves me.
When I peek out, Gracen’s put the other shirt on. “All you have to do is answer his questions. I haven’t told him anything about you, about your past, or your ghost. All he knows is that you’re severely haunted.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“The only way we’re going to know if he’s real is if he can tell us the details of your haunting,” Avory says. “You haven’t told us much—and that’s okay—so you’re the only one who can determine if he’s legit.”
I take a breath. “Okay.”
