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Her hands go up, and she rolls her eyes at me. “Something nice and casual. I promise.”

* * *

I let the water wash all my worries away. Helping the detective is a calculated risk, but a risk I must take. I know this deep in my soul. I could never be at peace with myself knowing that I could do something to help and perhaps prevent another murder and did nothing about it. We are as responsible for our lack of actions as much as we are for our actions. As long as my name isn’t included in any files or I somehow end up on the internet, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Steam follows me as I exit the bathroom. I plaster a smile on my face for Lynn’s benefit. I don’t want her to worry about me. “That was the best shower of my life. What is it about a long, hot shower that makes you feel new again?”

Lynn laughs. “You look like a toddler wrapped in a king-sized blanket. Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

I tug at the ends of my robe belt, making it tighter. The hem nearly touches the ground, and the long sleeves hang several inches past my hands.

She steps to the side and waves at the bed, showcasing the outfit she picked for me like one of those women in a TV game show. “Tada!”

Lying out on my bed is a long turquoise blue dress. One of my favorites. It’s a perfect summer dress, the fabric soft, breezy, and barely there. I love the way it brushes against my legs when I walk. It’s pretty and feminine, but not overtly sexy. It will look great with my newly tanned skin. “This will do.”

“And this too, in case it gets chilly later.” She holds up the light cardigan I often pair with this dress. “And you can borrow my silver flat sandals. I know you love them.”

I run my fingers through my wet hair, shaking the loose curls. “Thank you. You did well. What are you gonna wear?”

“Me? I’m not going.” Lynn drops the cardigan on top of the dress.

I squint at her. “I told you it is not a date.”

She rolls her lips together and looks away. A sure sign that she’s afraid to say something that will hurt my feelings. “I know, that’s not it.”

“What is it then?” My voice softens.

She wrings her hands. “Honestly? I can’t hear you talking about all that stuff again.”

Guilt nudges at me like a poking finger. I should know better. Lynn loves hearing about the old stuff. But anything recent or current spooks her. She needs the distance of decades or centuries to feel safe. “Aww, sweetie. I’m sorry. It was a bit too much, wasn’t it?”

She rubs her arms as if the friction could dispel her anxiety. “I feel like such a fool. You’re the one who had to see all that, and here I am being a chicken shit about it. You know that normally I love all that stuff you do. But this one . . . this one is too much.”

I step closer and squeeze her into a hug. Lynn is always so upbeat it’s easy to forget she’s not immune to the sadder side of what I do. “It was the ghost, wasn’t it?”

She nods against my shoulder. “Yeah. Seeing you break down like that, and then the ghost . . .”

That makes me laugh. “Got it. No ghosts for you. You prefer them alive, six-foot-two, and sexy.”

Lynn steps away. “Maybeyourhot detective has a friend.”

“He’s not my detect—” My phone chimes. It's a call, not a text message.

The detective’s number flashes on the screen.

My hands tremble. “Hello?” Why am I reacting this way? Am I nervous about getting involved in the investigation, or is it about him?

“Miss Bloom?”

I swallow against the sudden dryness in my mouth. “Ava.”

“Ava . . .” His voice softens at my name—the sound settles low in my belly. “I’m running a little late. Can you meet me at your building lobby at five-fifteen?”

I press the phone closer to my ear—as if doing so I could capture more than the sound of his voice. As if I could somehow hold a part of him closer to me. That old longing for him, for the young man who saved my life and lived in my dreams since I was a girl, scratches at my chest. “Will do.” I sound unsure.

“See you then.”

He hangs up before I can say anything else. I stare at my phone as if it holds the answer to my reaction to Jake. All the years of daydreaming about him didn’t prepare me for this.

Lynn peers at my phone. “What was all that about? You sounded so formal.”