Page 79 of Ghosts Don't Cry
“Make a wish, honey,” Dad calls out.
I close my eyes. The only thing I can see is him. Alone in that factory, with his books and silence, and cold seeping through the walls. It makes my wish simple.
I wish for him to be safe. For him to have enough. For him to let me help.
I blow out the candles, everyone cheers, and the party carries on around me. By midnight, people start wandering out in groups, hugging me, and shouting final birthday wishes as they leave. Mom is busy directing the cleanup crew, and she doesn’t notice when I take a Tupperware container and fill it with chicken wings, pasta salad, and sandwiches. I add a thick slice of cake, wrapped carefully in a napkin.
“Want me to cover for you?” Cassidy’s voice comes from behind me.
I turn to face my best friend. “Would you? I can’t rest without making sure he’s okay.”
She hugs me. “Happy birthday, Lily. Just be careful, okay? It’s not safe over that side of town, this late at night.”
It only takes ten minutes to drive from Sullivan’s to the factory. I park my car in a dark corner where streetlights don’t reach, grab my bag and the food, and pick my way across the debris-littered ground to the entrance.
My party dress wasn’t made for sneaking through abandoned buildings, or for being out in cold weather. Silk catches on rusted metal, tearing with a soft sound that makes me wince. Myheels echo too loudly against broken concrete, announcing my presence to anyone who might be listening … which is hopefully no one.
The factory looms around me, all shadows and decay, the smell of rust and old oil heavy in the air. But I don’t care. None of that matters more than the boy I’m here to see. I know he’ll act irritated to see me. He always does at first. The Tupperware in my bag gives me a reason to be here. One that isn’t ‘I needed to see you.’
Up ahead, a familiar glow marks his corner, the light from a solar-powered lantern I brought for him a couple of weeks ago. He’s reading. He’salwaysreading when I find him. The book is propped against his knees, angled to catch the light. His hoodie is pulled up against the December cold, fabric worn thin at the elbows. Tension pulls his shoulders taut when he hears my footsteps, his body goes still in that way that means he’s assessing threat levels. Then his head turns and he sees me.
“You missed my party.” It isn’t what I wanted to say, and I bite my lip.
His eyes drop back to his book. “Not really my kind of thing.”
“I saved you some party food and cake.” I set down my bag.
“Don’t need charity, Lily.”
“It’s not charity.” I sink down beside him close enough that our shoulders almost touch. The cold from the floor seeps through my dress. “It’s my birthday cake, and I wanted to share it with you.”
His hand lifts, and his eyes catch mine. My heart hurts at what I see in them. Exhaustion, hunger, and wariness. I reach for his hand, letting my fingers brush over his knuckles. They’re red and chapped from the cold, the skin rough.
“Why aren’t you wearing the gloves I gave you?”
“Can’t turn the pages properly with gloves on.” He doesn’t pull away though. “I didn’t get you anything. You should go back to your friends.”
“I don’t want anything … Well, not anything that costs money, anyway.”
He frowns, pulls his fingers free, and closes his book. “What doesthatmean?”
“I want you.” My heart is pounding so hard I wonder if he can hear it. “That’s my birthday wish. I want you to be my first.”
He goes completely still. Even his breathing stops.
“Ronan?”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he whispers in a voice that’s rough around the edges.
“Yes, I do.” I turn to face him fully, my fingers trailing up his arm. Even through the hoodie, I can feel how thin he is, howcoldhe is. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for months.”
He shakes his head, but he doesn’t move away from me. His pulse jumps under my touch when my fingers find his wrist.
“Lily, I’m not ... I can’t.” He swallows hard. “You deserve better than this. Thanme. You deserve more than an abandoned building and a cold floor. Your first time should be in a warm room and a soft bed, with someone who can give you a life.”
I press my finger to his lips, silencing him. “I deserve exactly what I want. And I wantyou.”
His eyes are wide, dark with hunger, need, and fear. Everything he usually tries to hide.
