half-open.
Oh, Jack.
They finish the walk down the hall together in silence and stop in front of my door. Ana’s eyes slide over it. “It might be a bit musty in there. I …I never go inside.” Her voice catches, but she soldiers on. “If you need anything, I’m down the hall.”
“I’ll be fine, except—could you lift the wards again?” Jack puts a hand on my bedroom doorframe, his shoulders hunched. “It would be nice to be able to breathe properly.”
“Shit. Sorry—” She catches herself, looking at him in consternation before calling her magic with a snippet of that eerie French rhyme.
“Feels strange to be civil to me, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, it probably won’t last long.”
Ana’s answering laugh is strained.
“Jack?” He’s already shutting the door, but he pauses at the sound of his name. “I’m sorry. It’s taking a while for this all to sink in, but…you really loved her, didn’t you?”
Instead of answering, he just looks at her. Ana opens her mouth to say something further, then stops, pressing fingers that tremble slightly to her lips before walking away as quickly as she can.
With what sounds like a very weary sigh, Jack shuts the door.
10
He doesn’t bother with the light. A nearby street lamp casts everything in a yellowish glow.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, he takes off his boots, then reaches back and pulls off his shirt. I suck in a breath. Even now, that hard, rangy body has the power to make my undead little heart go pitter-patter. I want nothing more in this world than to be able to put my hands on him. To rub away the tension I can see in the hard corded muscles of those broad shoulders; to wipe away this clusterfuck of a night; to press my lips to that hollow just below his ear that drives him nuts and make him forget everything. To feel his arms come around me and yank me close enough that I can feel his heart beating against my ribs.
His grey-green eyes roam the room, taking in every detail as he runs a hand through his hair. The faintest smile curls his lips when his gaze lands on a picture next to the window. Me and Sy at Lutsen last winter. Both of us with cheeks whipped pink by the cold, but god did we have fun that day. I don’t think I’ve ever skied so fast. It felt like the wind was carrying me down the mountain in its arms. My eyes widen in sudden suspicion. No way—
When he speaks, it makes me jump. “It feels like you could walk in here any minute. I don’t know whether I love that feeling or hate it.” My ghost heart is pounding, but of course, he doesn’t see me. He’s talking to my memory, the me in that picture.
Not the me that he has no idea is watching him right now, eyes filling with tears that no one will ever see and that I can’t even feel.
He lies back in my bed, not bothering to pull the candy-striped duvet down, staring at the ceiling.
“I miss you, princess,” he whispers into the still dusty air.
“I miss you, too, Jack,” I whisper back, slipping closer to the bed, mesmerized by the sight of him. Jack’s eyes close, one hand curled just below his ribs, his fingertips resting on that tantalizing line of dark hair that dusts his smooth walnut skin. In the next instant, he’s fast asleep.
I watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, not feeling the least bit sleepy myself. Not that ghosts actually sleep anyway, but I do fall into a kind of stupor most nights. But watching Jack sleep, I’m more awake than I’ve been in months.
Maybe it’s because we’re getting somewhere. Or Jack is. He got his trial. And survived. The problem is as satisfying as it was to see Jack vindicated and my sister forced to confess, I can’t help but feel awful for Jett. The look on Stephen’s face was chilling. Then there’s Ana and Carly… My family, as I knew it, is pretty much gone. No Mom, no me and soon, no Jett.
I don’t want to watch Jack kill my sister. But that’s about all I can do. Watch.
I’m so
Oh, Jack.
They finish the walk down the hall together in silence and stop in front of my door. Ana’s eyes slide over it. “It might be a bit musty in there. I …I never go inside.” Her voice catches, but she soldiers on. “If you need anything, I’m down the hall.”
“I’ll be fine, except—could you lift the wards again?” Jack puts a hand on my bedroom doorframe, his shoulders hunched. “It would be nice to be able to breathe properly.”
“Shit. Sorry—” She catches herself, looking at him in consternation before calling her magic with a snippet of that eerie French rhyme.
“Feels strange to be civil to me, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, it probably won’t last long.”
Ana’s answering laugh is strained.
“Jack?” He’s already shutting the door, but he pauses at the sound of his name. “I’m sorry. It’s taking a while for this all to sink in, but…you really loved her, didn’t you?”
Instead of answering, he just looks at her. Ana opens her mouth to say something further, then stops, pressing fingers that tremble slightly to her lips before walking away as quickly as she can.
With what sounds like a very weary sigh, Jack shuts the door.
10
He doesn’t bother with the light. A nearby street lamp casts everything in a yellowish glow.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, he takes off his boots, then reaches back and pulls off his shirt. I suck in a breath. Even now, that hard, rangy body has the power to make my undead little heart go pitter-patter. I want nothing more in this world than to be able to put my hands on him. To rub away the tension I can see in the hard corded muscles of those broad shoulders; to wipe away this clusterfuck of a night; to press my lips to that hollow just below his ear that drives him nuts and make him forget everything. To feel his arms come around me and yank me close enough that I can feel his heart beating against my ribs.
His grey-green eyes roam the room, taking in every detail as he runs a hand through his hair. The faintest smile curls his lips when his gaze lands on a picture next to the window. Me and Sy at Lutsen last winter. Both of us with cheeks whipped pink by the cold, but god did we have fun that day. I don’t think I’ve ever skied so fast. It felt like the wind was carrying me down the mountain in its arms. My eyes widen in sudden suspicion. No way—
When he speaks, it makes me jump. “It feels like you could walk in here any minute. I don’t know whether I love that feeling or hate it.” My ghost heart is pounding, but of course, he doesn’t see me. He’s talking to my memory, the me in that picture.
Not the me that he has no idea is watching him right now, eyes filling with tears that no one will ever see and that I can’t even feel.
He lies back in my bed, not bothering to pull the candy-striped duvet down, staring at the ceiling.
“I miss you, princess,” he whispers into the still dusty air.
“I miss you, too, Jack,” I whisper back, slipping closer to the bed, mesmerized by the sight of him. Jack’s eyes close, one hand curled just below his ribs, his fingertips resting on that tantalizing line of dark hair that dusts his smooth walnut skin. In the next instant, he’s fast asleep.
I watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, not feeling the least bit sleepy myself. Not that ghosts actually sleep anyway, but I do fall into a kind of stupor most nights. But watching Jack sleep, I’m more awake than I’ve been in months.
Maybe it’s because we’re getting somewhere. Or Jack is. He got his trial. And survived. The problem is as satisfying as it was to see Jack vindicated and my sister forced to confess, I can’t help but feel awful for Jett. The look on Stephen’s face was chilling. Then there’s Ana and Carly… My family, as I knew it, is pretty much gone. No Mom, no me and soon, no Jett.
I don’t want to watch Jack kill my sister. But that’s about all I can do. Watch.
I’m so
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