Page 33 of Ghosts Don't Cry
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“I know. I’m not defending him. I’m just saying that maybe this is complicated for both of you.”
Complicated. That’s one word for it. Devastating would be more accurate.
World-tilting.
Heartbreaking, even.
But complicated works too.
We sit in silence, drinking coffee. Cassidy doesn’t try to fill the quiet, she just stays beside me, her shoulder close to mine, a reminder that I’m not alone. In a few hours, I’ll have to face my mom and pretend I’m not unraveling at the seams. But she’ll see right through me. She always does.
But right now, I let myself lean on my best friend. My head drops to her shoulder, and she shifts to accommodate me. She smells like lemon bodywash and coffee.
“I’ve built a whole life. I have a career I love. Students who depend on me. I have friends. I’m happy Cass … or I thought I was.”
“Youarehappy. This doesn’t erase that.”
“Doesn’t it?” I pull back to look at her. “Because right now I feel like everything I’ve built is just … set dressing. A stage I’ve been performing on … and the second he shows up, it all falls apart. What does that say about me?”
“Nothing has fallen apart, Lils. Everything is still there, waiting for you. All it means is that you loved him. It says that you’re human, and humans don’t just switch off their feelings because time passes.”
“I want to switch them off. I want to feel nothing. I want him to be a stranger, so I can walk past him without feeling like this.”
“But you can’t.”
“No.” The word comes out broken. “I can’t.”
“I should get this place cleaned up before I go to Mom’s.” I pull myself upright. My body protests, stiff from sitting in the same position for too long.
“Want me to come to your mom’s with you? I could use some of her lasagna. And moral support for you, of course. Mostly the lasagna, though.”
“No. But maybe after? Come over and we could have a movie night. We can watch something mindless, with explosions or talking animals … or both.”
“Deal!” She stands, stretching. “But I’m going to pick the movie. No sad indie films about lost love and redemption, or star-crossed lovers. In fact, nothing that even remotely involves someone pining.”
I laugh, and it almost sounds real. “Fine. You can pick.”
“I’m thinking superheroes. Something where the only drama is who looks better without a shirt.”
“Perfect.”
Chapter Twelve
RONAN
Sunday dawns gray and cold.I haven’t slept. I was too wired from seeing Lily, from everything trying to crowd into my head. Instead, I spent the night making lists, trying to understand exactly what Edwards has left me with.
Now sunlight is creeping across the hardwood floor that hasn't seen polish in years, illuminating layers of dust and neglect. The house feels different in daylight—bigger, emptier, and with problems I couldn’t see last night.
I grab my notebook and start in the basement. Construction work taught me to start with foundations, with things that hold everything else up. The air down here is thick and damp, carrying the smell of old concrete and standing water. My boots splash through a shallow puddle at the base of the stairs.
Running my hand along the foundation wall, I feel for cracks, and the telltale texture of where water seeps through. The concrete is solid in some places, but the corners tell a different story. Water damage creeps up from where the drainage has failed, dark stains mapping its slow invasion.
I crouch, pressing my palm flat against the cold concrete. Moisture seeps through. The foundation is salvageable, but it needs work. Nothing I can’t handle.
The electrical panel looks original to the house, with ancient fuses where circuit breakers should be. When I pop the cover, my jaw tightens. It’s worse than I thought. Cloth-wrapped insulation, brittle with age. Someone spliced in aluminum wire at some point, probably in the seventies when it was cheap. Mixed with copper, it’s a textbook fire hazard.
