Page 52 of Ghosts Don't Cry

My legs give out and I slide down the wall, pressing my palms against my eyes until stars burst behind them.

Seven fucking years, and shestillsees right through me. She still makes me want things I have no right to even fucking think about.

Some breaks can’t be fixed, and some walls need to remain standing. And some ghosts deserve to stay alone, even when being alone feels like dying.

Chapter Nineteen

LILY

I makeit three blocks from Cedar Street before my vision blurs so badly I can’t see the road. My foot slams against the brake, and the car jerks to a stop in front of Jerry’s Diner, crooked across two parking spaces. I kill the engine with shaking hands.

Then I shatter.

The first sob rips out of my throat. My forehead hits the steering wheel. Once. Twice. The pain doesn’t help.

You saw what you wanted to see. The project. The charity case.

His words loop through my head, each repetition cutting deeper. My lungs won’t expand properly. I can’t catch my breath. The air in the car is too thin.

I fumble for the door handle. Miss. And try again. The cold night air hits my face when I finally stumble out, but that doesn’t help either.

Every cruel thing he said circles in my head. Every accusation. Every lie he told me to push me away.

Except … what if they weren’t lies?

Through the diner windows, I can see our old booth. The one in the back corner, where I used to take him after schoolsometimes, pretending I was hungry when really I just wanted to make sure he ate something.

He’d order black coffee and the cheapest thing on the menu. I’d order extra fries, a milkshake, and a burger I could never finish. I’d cut the burger in half, and push it toward him, claiming I was too full, my stomach hurt, and I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.

He always knew what I was doing. I could see it in his eyes—the shame mixing with hunger, and pride battling need. But he’d eat it anyway, because survival won over dignity every single time.

Was that what he meant? That I turned his hunger into my heroism?

My stomach turns.

You still can’t fix what’s broken inside me.

My phone rings. Cassidy’s name lights up through the haze of tears, and I reach for it with hands that won’t stop shaking. It slips through my fingers, and hits the pavement, cracking the screen.

“Fuck.” The word comes out broken, followed by another sob.

I crouch down, scrabbling for the phone. My knees hit wet asphalt, and the cold soaks through my jeans. On the fourth ring, I manage to swipe the screen.

“Lily? Where are you? I thought you were coming over.”

“I can’t—” The words won’t form properly. “I … I did something stupid, Cass.”

“What did you do?”

“I went to see him.” Saying out loud makes it real …makes itworse. “I went to Cedar Street and I—God, I’m sofuckingstupid!”

“Where are you?”

“Parked outside Jerry’s.”

“Stay there. I’ll call you a cab.”

“You don’t need to do that.”