I lick my bottom lip before rushing off, eager to get back to kissing. I’m about to enter the guest bathroom when Nick calls down the hall, “Use mine.”
I continue toward the back of the house and his room. I was in here for only a minute yesterday, so I take my time looking around.
It’s clean and very masculine. Gray walls and black accents everywhere else. There’s not a pile of dirty clothes to be found. Then again, Jackie was here cleaning just yesterday. But something tells me that Nick isn’t messy. His sister might be behind the organization, but he maintains it.
Under the sink, just where Nick said, I locate the extra toothbrushes, overflowing in a white, labeled basket. I grab the first package and start brushing, refusing to look at my rat’s-nest hair, which will be the second order of business before breakfast.
I sigh, content with my fresh breath and prepared to work out my tangled hair, but when I look up into the mirror, the redhead from earlier is behind me, smiling like a lunatic.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” I say, grabbing at my heart and spinning around.
Her eyes are like saucers. “You can see me.”
I grab the towel from the rack and hold it out in front of me, as if it’s going to save me from the peppy ghost girl. I’m not afraid of her, just overwhelmed by her.
She’s a spirit, but not the poltergeist I’ve been seeing. This one seems a little too happy for being dead.
“You can see me,” she repeats, bouncing on her toes.
I tip my eyeballs north and nod my head. “Yes, I can see you, but how about you answer my question…Who are you?”
“My name?” she asks, biting her lower lip. “Let’s call me…Pearl.”
“Pearl?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Why do I get the feeling that is not, in fact, your name?”
She shrugs. “It is. It’s even on my birth…and death certificate. At least, I guess it would be. Can’t claim to have seen that one.”
I purse my lips, taking her in. “Do you remember anything about how you died?” I ask, trying not to come across as insensitive.
She swallows, turning her head away from me. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
Her mood instantly changes. Gone is the girl who was just bouncing around. Her posture is tense, and her arms are crossed over her chest.
I take a step forward, prepared to place a hand on her shoulder, but pull away before making that mistake.
“I understand, but if you’re here, you likely need my help crossing over,” I say, voice calm and soft.
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t. I choose to be here.”
My head jerks, taken aback by her tone. “Oh, okay. You’re choosing to stay with me or…” I let my sentence hang, hoping she’ll fill in the blanks.
“I don’t even know you. I’m not here for you,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Then who exactly are you here for?”
She huffs, seemingly annoyed with me. “Clearly, I’m here for him,” she says, pointing out the door and toward where Nick is.
My head snaps to her face, and I run over every feature. And that’s when the truth hits me.
“You’re…Isla.”
She narrows her eyes on me, sucking her teeth. “You know who I am?” she asks, and I nod.
“Of course I do. I’ve lived in this town for many years. I’ve met your mother on a few occasions.”
The last encounter I had with her mother comes to mind, and I shiver, thinking about her less-than-friendly brother.
“I even helped Oliver cross over recently.”
