Tears streamed down Emmy’s face as she cradled him against her. She could never take back what she had done to him. No matter what he said, this was her fault. She hadn’t appeared in his world on purpose, but it was her appearance that had caused his pain nonetheless. A part of her felt like a fraud, offering him comfort when she was the source of his discomfort in the first place. Worse, she feared that he would never truly recover from this. Even ifshe somehow found a way to bring him back with her to the real world, his mind might not be able to handle it. For now, all she could do was hold him, grieve with him, and make sure he knew he wasn’t alone. Even when he stopped crying, she held him, waited until he was ready to sit back. It took a while, and she didn’t mind. There was a gentle breeze blowing and birds chirping. Comforting feelings, sights, sounds. Exactly what a cemetery was supposed to provide for the grieving.
He sat back eventually, rubbed his hands down his face.
“Tell me about her,” Emmy requested softly.
“What’s to tell?” he asked. “She wasn’t real.”
“She was real toyou.”
He didn’t respond right away, and stayed silent long enough that she didn’t think he’d speak again. But then he sighed, plucked a piece of grass to toy with absently, and spoke.
“She was older than me by a couple years, but she was one of my best friends. She laughed with her whole body, you know… threw her head back, held her stomach. It should have looked fake, but it was real with her. She always ate her French fries plain—no ketchup or dip of any kind. One time, when my aunt wouldn’t let her get her nose pierced, she ‘ran away’ to our house. I think she was thirteen or fourteen then. My mom called my aunt—without telling us, so we could feel like we were doing something sneaky—and let Trudy stay the night.
“We used to challenge each other to competitions all the time. Just random shit that popped into our heads. Who can eat the most Lucky Charms without milk; who can climbthis tree faster; who can watch this YouTube video of a kitten falling into a bowl of water without laughing.”
Emmy smiled a little despite herself. “I think I would have liked her.”
“Absolutely. She would have liked your sense of humor. If she were still alive, I think she would be the only person I would have risked telling about all this. Maybe it’s best that she isn’t, because I wouldn’t have been able to leave her behind if I found a way out of the book.”
He fell silent again, and Emmy’s heart clenched. His pain was a sharp, aching wound in her chest. She cursed herself for ever picking up the book, for going to see a sex psychic just to make her sister feel better, for doing her best to convince him that he was a fictional character instead of leaving him alone.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Anything,” Emmy told him.
“I need a little more time. Can you drive my car back to the house? I’ll have Jared or somebody give me a ride back when I’m ready. I can’t leave just yet.”
“That’s fine. Do you want me to call anyone for you? Or do anything else?”
He shook his head. “Just get yourself home safe.”
She accepted his keys. It was difficult to get up and leave him alone in front of a young girl’s grave, but she respected his wishes. She left. Tears dripped silently down her cheeks as she drove to the little house she was using as a temporary home.
Twenty-Two
Will found her asleep on his couch again. She was curled up under a blanket with her cheek resting on her hand. It was surprising how right she looked there. But she didn’t belong in his world, no matter his feelings on the matter. Sighing, he scooped her into his arms and started carrying her to her room. She blinked blearily up at him as he set her carefully on her bed.
“Will?”
“Just putting you somewhere more comfortable. You can go back to sleep.”
He started to rise, to pull away.
She grabbed his shirt. “Don’t go away.”
He put his hand over hers where it gripped his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to disappear again.”
Accepting his words, she allowed her eyes to close, and her hand slipped back down to rest by her side. Will indulged himself by brushing his fingertips over her hair, then pressing his lips to her forehead for just a moment. He had been selfish, he realized, asking her to hang aroundwith him. She had a life—areallife—to get back to. Family and friends who loved her. A new business to start. An ex-boyfriend to get over. How could he keep insisting she stay with him instead of putting all of her focus into getting herself out?
Resolve settling in his gut, he went to the kitchen to work out some angles while she slept.
*
Emmy woke up to a quiet house a little while later. She struggled to sit up, pushed through the drowsiness left behind by her nap. It took her a moment to remember what had happened before she’d fallen asleep, but when she did, she jumped out of bed and rushed to find Will. Relief washed over her when she saw him sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of black coffee and making quick notes on a legal pad. When she walked in, he looked up and smiled a little.
“There’s plenty of coffee left.”
“Thanks.” She took a moment to pour herself a mug, splashed in some milk. “How are you?” she asked, sitting down across from him.
