Page 40 of The Same Backward as Forward
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
Chapter 31
I woke up with my legs intertwined with his—insidethe lighthouse. It wasn’t until I’d extracted myself and felt my way through the darkness to step back outside that I realized: It was still nighttime. The moon was high in the sky.
The lighthouse had been built on a jut of rocky land that hung out over the ocean. Coming to stand on the point, I could hear waves crashing against the rocks below. If it had been high tide, I might have felt the spray, but as it was, all I felt was the weight of what I’d done with Harry and the fact that I couldn’t banish the image of his face, his body, his scars from my mind.
Had I hurt him?
Did I care?
I leaned back against the aging lighthouse, letting out a shudder of a breath and taking in the moon and the stars and the darkness and the cost of not being alone. In the sky, one star glowed brighter than all the rest.
“Well, well, well,” a voice said behind me. “Who’s doing the walk of shame now?”
That wasn’t Harry. It wasn’t Jackson. It was a voice I knew as well as I knew my own, and she sounded like she was enjoying herself.
“Kaylie?” That wasn’t possible. I didn’t turn around, because it wasn’tpossible.
“I’m so proud, you beautiful, saucy, audacious little minx, you.”
I turned. I couldn’t help it. And there she was.Kaylie.
She’s here. The fire. She didn’t—I reached for her, and my hand passed straight through her body.
“Neat party trick, huh?” she said, smiling like there was no tomorrow.
My throat stung. “You’re…”
“Everything I ever was,” she told me.
Not possible.“This isn’t possible,” I said, the words ripping their way out of me like a beast from a cage.
“Anything is possible,” Kaylie said, “when you love someone with no regrets.”
She’s not really here. This isn’t happening.I was imagining this, imagining her—or else it was a dream, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t, because she looked so real.
She looked like my Kaylie. “I am nothing but regrets,” I said.
“I am Kaylie Rooney,” my sister replied, putting her hands on her hips, “and I do not approve that message.” She was so very…Kaylie. “You’re my sister, bitch. No regrets.” Her smile was infectious now, anon top of a pool table,on top of the worldkind of smile. “Dance with me, Hannah.”
I hadn’t, the night before she died. She’d wanted me to dance, but I hadn’t.
I wasn’t going to make that mistake twice.
“You call that dancing?” Kaylie tossed her head back, lifting her arms over her head, the movement of her hips so natural it made it seem like dancing was her default state. “Just let go. Feel the music.”
“There is no music.” I was the logical one. The rational one. Our dynamic, so familiar I ached with it, brought tears to my eyes. I wasn’t in the shower, and I only ever cried in the shower—but I couldn’t help it.
“Less crying,” Kaylie ordered imperiously. “More wild abandon.”
Let go, I told myself.Feel the music.In my heart I knew:Shewas the music. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be, but I danced the way she did, like I’d been born shouting my joy and my fury to the moon.
“Now say it,” Kaylie told me.“No regrets.”
