Page 145 of Ghosts Don't Cry

When I next check the time, it’s almost one. I pause long enough to wipe my hands clean and grab my phone. I stare at the blank message screen for longer than I want to admit, finger hovering over Lily’s name.

I could go alone. Ishouldgo alone. This is my problem to deal with.

But I don’t want to.

I type the message before I can talk myself out of it.

Me: Need to go to the lawyer later to hear about the final part of the will. Come with me?

I stare at it for way too long, waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something that doesn't sound quite so … needy. They don’t. I press send.

When she replies almost immediately, and then follows up with wanting to be picked up from school, and suggesting dinner afterward, the tension bleeds from my shoulders.

She didn’t say no.

By the time I need to leave to pick her up, half the floor is done. My hands are filthy, and my knees ache from kneeling on the floor. I take a quick shower, catching my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. The man staring back looks different from the one who first walked into this house.

Less haunted, maybe. Or just less afraid.

The school parking lot is half-full when I pull in. A few teachers are standing in the yard. Some of them glance over, but the way they look doesn’t hit me the same way it did a few weeks ago.

Lily walks out of the building, hair slipping free from where she’s tied it up, paint smudges on her cheek. When she sees me, she smiles, and it lights up everything inside me.

She slides into the passenger seat, and leans across the center console to kiss me. “Ready?”

I reach for her hand, threading our fingers together. “Yeah.”

I’m not. I’m not even the slightest bit ready for whatever is waiting at Mitchell’s office. But I pull out of the parking lot anyway, her hand warm in mine.

I drive through town, while her fingers trace patterns over my thigh, and my heart pounds harder the closer we get to the office. I try to focus on her touch instead of the growing dread building in my gut.

When we find a parking space, and walk toward Mitchell’s office, we find Tom waiting outside. That stops me in my tracks.

“What—"

He straightens from where he’s leaning against the wall. “Right on time.”

I frown at him. “Why are you here?”

He nods toward the office door. “Why don’t we go inside and find out?”

After living next door to this man for the past four weeks, I know better than to try and get more out of him, so I follow him inside, Lily’s hand tight in mine.

“Mr. Oliver. Ms. Gladwin.” Mitchell is already waiting in the reception area. “Right on time. Please come this way.”

His office seems smaller than the last time I was here. Maybe that’s because I’m not alone. Lily’s fingers stay linked with mine as we sit. Tom takes the chair near the window, his expression giving nothing away.

My leg bounces. I force it to stop.

“The final terms of the will.” Mitchell pulls out a thick envelope. “Mr. Edwards was very specific about the timing of this.”

I force myself to breathe, and brace myself to be told that it’s time for me to leave.

“He wanted you to have time,” Mitchell continues. “He wanted you to settle in, and start making the house yours. But mostly …” He glances at Lily. “He wanted to make sure you weren’t alone for this part.”

He slides the envelope across the desk.

I’m frozen to the spot, can’t even lift my hand to take it.