Page 117 of Ghostly

“You don’t love me,” he said after a pause. “I don’t think you ever did. And I never loved you. We only thought we had something because it felt good.Betterthan what he had without it.”

“You’re telling me howIfelt?”

“No, you’ve shown me how you truly felt, by planning a scandal!”

Wynona huffed, walked a few steps away, then turned to him again. “You’re going to throw me into the same group as Anderson, aren’t you? Arch-nemesis. Never to be forgiven.”

Gabriel walked to the edge of the steps. The arch-nemesis group. Yes, that was a special one. One for the unforgiven.

But as he thought about it, as the first bout of rage and shock cleared, no long-lasting, ever-biting hate remained. Anderson had been right. He didn’t care about Gabriel—hell, in law school, he didn’t even bother to remember his name! He wasn’t put on this Earth to torture him. Gabriel ascribed him way too much importance.

And so he did to Wynona’s scheme. It didn’t matter. It truly didn’t.

Wynona sniffled, although even that had seemed practiced—too perfect. “You’ll never forgive me, will you?”

“Actually…” He turned to her. “I do.”

She tilted her head.

“I forgive you. And Anderson. And whoever else needs it.” Gabriel shrugged, then laughed at the pleasant, light, shimmering feeling in his chest. “Because I don’t care! I don’t care what any of you did.” In truth, neither Wynona nor Anderson were most in need of forgiveness. Because the head of the arch-nemesis club—it’s always been Gabriel, himself.

He strolled down the steps. “We’re not going to dinner, obviously. And I’ll return whatever clothes you left at my apartment tomorrow. Consider whatever we have…” He made a vague hand motion between them. “Canceled.”

“But, Gabriel…”

“I’m done. I’m done with all of you.” He stopped at the bottom of the steps and took a deep breath. Was that how it felt to finally let go? To forgive himself?

All the past months, he’d been telling Ida of how she had to let go of her anger—and praised her for doing so. Who would’ve ever thought it would be so easy to do it himself?

He clutched his chest. The shimmering feeling. The dinner, Rosalie, lighting the candle at Ida’s grave…

I’ll just have to take care not to forgive anyone and pop you out ofexistence before we can bring you back to life.

Ida.

No.

***

“Really. He’s opening with the French Defense.” Ida booed the TV screen. “Everyone learned that when they were ten! Don’t you know any better?”

Beside her, Shawn munched on tortilla chips with sauce, ignoring her as always.

“We’ll tell him we were right when he loses, won’t we, buddy?” she said. She’d never paid much attention to chess before. Interesting. A hundred and thirty years with all the time at her leisure, and no chess. It was an exciting game. Thrilling. Made hours pass like minutes. If she could over-analyze every move, she’d never have to think of anything—anyone—ever again.

A warm, fuzzy feeling started in her chest. No, that wouldn’t be from the hot sauce she’d haunted earlier. She looked down, but as expected, nothing had changed.

The feeling spread—into her stomach, shoulders, progressing into arms and legs—

She shot up. She knew this. The dinner, Rosalie, Gabriel lighting the candle at her grave…

She flew up through the ceiling into the second floor, and into her bedroom. Her fingers trembled, energy almost unstable, as she struggled to draw the contract out of the folder and put it on the bed.

The ball of light and warmth inside her grew stronger and stronger, a supernova ready to explode. Panicked, Ida jumped to the single condition left on the contract.Forgive, previously written in black ink, turned into a blood red… then started to fade.

Gabriel. He did it.

A mix of feelings rushed through her body, as if it was trying to process them all, remember them for the last time before she’d pass through. Happiness—after all this time, he’d done it! Sadness, fear—she didn’t want to go, not like this. Was it possible that even after a century, she wasn’tready? So many foods she’d never haunted. Movies she’d never watch. New tenants she’d never meet—and neighbors she’d never see again.