Page 66 of Ghosts Don't Cry

“Actually—” Cassidy starts.

“We won’t stay long,” Kate interrupts, examining her nails. “Just until he gets here.” Her eyes flick to me. “I’m sure you understand.”

Heat crawls up my neck. Amy’s smile widens slightly.

“Such a cute place now, isn’t it?” She looks around. “So much better than when it was Sullivan’s. They really reinvented the place.”

“They certainly did.” Kate’s tone is light in response, but her eyes are sharp. “A lot like some people.” She props her chin on one hand and looks at me. “I mean, look at you. Teacher, pillar of the community. It’s impressive really.”

Cassidy’s hand finds mine under the table, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

“And some people,” Amy adds, leaning back in a way that takes up too much space, “stay exactly who they’ve always been. Just with better packaging.”

As if on cue, the door opens again, and I stop breathing.

Chapter Twenty-Five

RONAN

Amy has shownup alone at the house three times since the grocery store. Kate twice. And once they both arrived together in a coordinated assault that left me checking the locks twice after they left. Each time, they used vague excuses about ‘welcoming’ me to the neighborhood, and wanting to help me get settled. Each time they stood a little closer, touched a little more, and looked at me like I’m something they want to claim as a prize … or a trophy to show off to the rest of the town.

Prison taught me not to flinch when people get too close. Getting noticed got you hurt, and showing discomfort was an invitation for more. But their casual touches make my skin crawl, and I have to fight against the need to recoil every time their nails dig into my arm or the perfume crowds my lungs. The hyper-vigilance stays with me for hours after they leave, that old instinct that says being cornered is dangerous, and being wanted is worse.

I should have stopped answering the door after their first visit, but I learned long ago that some battles aren’t worth fighting. Let them think they’re winning, and have all the power. It’s better than the alternative.

The bar’s new sign casts a harsh light across the parking lot. Sullivan’s has been gutted, and transformed into something sleek and polished that doesn’t belong in this town. It reminds me of me, living in the house on Cedar Street and pretending I’m not what everyone knows I am.

I should be at the house, tackling the plumbing issues I found after finishing the electrical work. But Amy’s last visit sparked something inside of me. Something that wants this town to see exactly what I turned into.

The door opens under my hand, and music spills out filled with too much bass and not enough soul. The place is packed, bodies pressed close together and drinks flowing freely. A few people notice me, and whispers spread outward like ripples in still water. I can feel their eyes tracking my movement.

I shouldn’t be here.

The thought hits clear and certain. I could turn around right now and go back to the house. I should let Amy and Kate sit here waiting for me, and continue to keep the town at a distance.

Before I can turn, Amy spots me and waves me over. Then I see who’s sitting across from her.

Lily.

She’s sitting next to Cassidy, and both of them look like they’d rather be anywhere else. But it’s Lily I can’t look away from. She’s wearing red, a color I always loved seeing her in. What I can see of the dress would have made teenage me forget how to breathe. It makes adult me forget why keeping distance matters. Her hair falls past her shoulders in waves I remember winding around my fingers.

Our eyes lock across the room, and everything around me fades—the music, the crowd, Amy’s voice calling my name.

Lily’s lips part. Before she can say a word, Amy is there, her hand finding mine with the same possessive touch she used in the grocery store. Every muscle in my body turns to stone, butI force myself to stay still. Kate appears on my other side, and I make my choice.

I let them guide me across the floor, even though every instinct screams to shake them off. Their hands on my arms feel like manacles, and reminds me of being processed and moved through checkpoints where you have no choice but to comply. I force myself to relax, and keep my breathing even.

This is voluntary. This is my choice.

The difference matters, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

They press me into the booth beside Amy, while Lily sits directly opposite, close enough that our knees would touch if either of us moved. I can smell her perfume, soft and floral cutting through Amy’s cloying sweetness.

“You made it.” Amy’s fingers trail down my arm, pointed red nails catching on my skin. “We were starting to think you wouldn’t show again.”

“I had things to finish at the house.” I don’t pull away from Amy’s touch, or let myself react when Kate shifts closer on my other side. I can feel the heat from their bodies, the same way I can feel Lily looking at me.

My stomach twists, but I keep my expression neutral. A roaming server appears, and Amy orders something complicated and expensive. Kate matches her. Cassidy picks wine, and Lily just stares at her glass like it holds the secrets to the universe. I order a double whiskey, neat.