“Happy birthday, my girl.”
My heart, still sore from the breakup, heals a little under the warmth of Dad’s love.
I drop my bags off in my dorm room before heading back out to grab a quick bite to eat from the deli on the edge of campus since the cafeteria is closed for break. I’m walking by the main administration building, where the deans’ offices are, when I recognize Phantom from the back. I’ve missed them so much over the past few days that my feet move on their own, jogging in their direction. I open my mouth to call to them, but when I see Dean Reithart stride up next to them, I close it again and slow my pace. Her anger is written all over her face, and it’s then that I realize they’re yelling at each other. I move into the shadows of the neighboring building and sneak closer, eavesdropping on their conversation.
“—blatant manipulation. I won’t stand for it any longer,” Dean Reithart says sternly.
“Don’t be such a drag,” Phantom scoffs with morevenom in their voice than I’ve ever heard from them before. It sends a chill down my spine.
“You’re just a greedy, ungrateful child,” she spits out.
I slap my hand over my mouth to keep a shocked gasp from escaping and giving away my position.
The lines of Phantom’s face twist in a disturbing mixture of sorrow and hate. “Thanks, Granny dearest. I love you too.”
Phantom is Dean Reithart’s grandchild?
“If you want to remain in this town, you will stop this,” she threatens, waving a severe finger in their direction.
Phantom lifts their arms in exasperation. “Has she not lived up to your expectations? I don’t see what the problem is here.”
“Of course she has.” Dean Reithart crosses her arms. “But it’s not about her. It’s about you and the lengths you’re willing to go to get what you want. I’ve enabled you for far too long. I draw the line at what you did to Remington Blake.”
What the hell are they talking about?
“Fine,” Phantom sneers. “I’ll just go back to being a good little ghost and disappear.”
Dean Reithart sighs. “That’s not what I want either.”
Phantom practically spits, “Well, it looks like neither of us will ever get what we want.” They storm off, leaving their grandmother alone, looking after them with decades worth of sorrow in her gaze.
I take a deep breath and rub my hands together to stop them from shaking, thinking over everything I just heard. I have no idea what it all means right now, but I know I have to ask Phantom. Tonight.
My lunch tastes bland in my mouth, and the rest of the afternoon goes by torturously slowly. Until finally, after five in the evening, Phantom texts.
I’ll be over in ten.
I pace anxious circles around my room, and even though I’m waiting for it, I still jump when their knock comes at the door. As usual, they’re gorgeous in a pair of gray joggers and a teal hoodie when the door swings open.
“Happy birthday, Maeve,” they say, a smile twinkling in their eyes.
“Thanks,” I reply, smiling despite myself.
They pull a gift-wrapped box out from behind their back. “For you.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I insist as I take the box and start to shake it.
Putting a warm, insistent hand over mine, they warn, “You don’t want to do that.”
My brows knit together. “Why not?”
“Open it and you’ll see.”
So, I do. I rip the silver wrapping paper off, exposing a shiny black box. When I lift the lid, I’m at a loss for words.
I’m staring at a set of the most beautiful paintbrushes I’ve ever seen: Kolinsky sable paintbrushes. Arguably the best, and most expensive, paintbrushes in the world.
“Phantom,” I breathe.
