A dead woman trying to communicate. And I’ve been too scared of my own ghosts to listen to hers.
“So what do we do?” My fingers find the ring through fabric. “How do we actually talk to her? Do you think we need a psychic?”
“Absolutely not.” She sits back so hard her chair creaks, hand to her chest like I’ve insulted her ancestors. “Why would I ever pay someone else for something I have access to?”
Simple. Like breathing. Like she didn’t just suggest communing with the dead.
“But I don’t have any of that—” My arms wave, trying to encompass her entire magical being. She just raises one perfect eyebrow. “—you-ness.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Another breadstick appears in her hand. “You have intuition. All women do. It’s in our DNA. You just don’t listen to it. Which brings us back to tonight’s lesson.”
“Which is?”
“You’re walking home.”
I stare at her. “Excuse me?”
“After dinner. You’re walking home to Fishtown. Alone. In the dark.”
“That’s like three miles?—”
“Exactly.” That grin. The one that means she’s already won. “Three miles to learn how to listen to your body. To feel when something’s wrong. To trust what you know without proof.”
“Alex—”
“I’ll be following you. At a distance in Nikko’s car. You’ll be safe.” She reaches across again. “But Dylan, if we’re going to help Dahlia—if you’re going to survive what’s coming—you need to learn how to feel danger before it arrives. Not after.”
Survive what’s coming.
My stomach drops to the sticky floor.
“You know something.”
“I know a lot of things.” That Alex-thing where she’s mystical and practical simultaneously. “But mostly I know that your body has been trying to protect you your whole life and you keep telling it to shut up.”
She’s right.Fuck, she’s right.
“Fine.” My wine glass empties. My hands won’t stay still. “But you’re carrying the donuts.”
“Deal.” Victory in her eyes. “And Dylan? Actually try. Please. For me.”
Thepleasehooks under my ribs.
“I will.” And this time, it’s true. “I’ll try.”
We end up splitting the check like always—after Alex slides her card over, me sliding it back. The eternal dance. Coats on. Donut box secured.
Outside, the cold is immediate.
South Philly at night. Street lights humming. Someone’s music bleeding from a cracked window. A dog barking. The city breathing around us.
“Alright.” Alex faces me on the sidewalk. “Here’s how this works. You walk. I follow at a distance. Don’t look back for me. Don’t check your phone. Just walk. And feel.”
“Feel what?”
“Everything.” Her fingers find the dandelion at her heart. “The air. The shadows. The spaces between sounds. Your body knows things your brain hasn’t figured out yet. Let it teach you.”
“This is insane.”
