Page 98 of Possessed By Shadows

“Until you went missing, yeah. I’d had months of normal.”

“Even seeing ghosts?”

It was hard to unsee them now that I noticed the subtle differences. Denying it didn’t help. “Even.”

He let out a long breath. “I still want answers.”

“Okay. I don’t think I have any for you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll stop searching.”

“If that means you’re still ghost hunting, I suggest no more solo runs.”

“Agreed,” the therapist said.

Lukas nodded. “I built up the group for that reason. I just thought if I was more connected…”

“You almost died.” I didn’t bring up that Micah had seen his spirit or something, which meant Lukas had been that close to death. Neither of us could really think of another reason why Micah, who didn’t see as much as I did, would have seen Lukas hovering in the den. “Could you not fucking die on me? I came home. I’m here. Can you stop trying to die now?”

He shattered. It was the only way to describe how his face scrunched up and he bent over his knees to cry. I moved, leaving the chair and perching beside him to gather him in my arms. He hesitated. Had issues with letting anyone see him cry. I’d learned that the hard way in the past year. He usually pulled away, tried to hide behind a mask. Not this time.

I forced him to look at me, even while his face was covered in tears, and snot, and pain. “I love you, asshole. Get that through your thick skull. It’s okay if you’re not perfect. I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to be Lukas. I need you to be my brother. The same brother who looked at all my stupid cosplay when I was a kid and smiled. The brother who snuck me comic books. The brother who didn’t tell on me when I first kissed a boy, and I cried because I thought I was going to hell. The brother who promised that even if I was going to hell, he’d go with me so I wasn’t alone. Can you at least try to be that brother? The one who loved me for just being me?”

“I do,” he promised. He buried his face in my neck, letting me hold him and feel his tears wet my shoulder.

“I don’t expect you to always get it right. But maybe talk to me more? If you’re feeling unsure? Or afraid? Maybe lean on me? Us? Sky and Micah too. Even if you don’t want Sky?”

“I do,” he whispered.

“Then you have to put in some effort.”

“I’ll try.”

It was honestly all we could really ask for. I held him a while longer, rocking him, trying to sort through my own thoughts which were loud and not always forgiving, but the therapist didn’t prod us again. Instead, she offered to set up another meeting with the three of us. Maybe add Sky or Micah. Time would tell.