“So, what’s different? What’s changed?” he asks, getting closer to my face.
I back away until the banister presses into my spine.
His fingers trace my face. The touch is gentle as it slinks to my neck, lingering there. His silent warning comes loud and clear.
“All I ever wanted was for you to love me?—”
“Shane, you cheated. You’ve lied.”
“But you could forgive me.”
“Not for everything.” Not for Ambrose.
Like he hears that, though, he asks, “So, what is it? Is it because of your dead brother?”
“What?” He catches me off guard.
Creating space between us, he gives me his back. “You’re in love with one of those ghosts you see, Dollancie. Your brother died trying to get you both away in the snow all those years ago. It was just too cold for him. He died for you. Because of you, wanting to go to a party so bad.”
“No, he’s alive, and I didn’t know that would happen.”
“He’s not alive, Lancie. That’s why your mother was always crying, too.” Shane rests in the doorway, leaning to one side.
“No…” I sink to the floor.
Reality has been hard for me these past few days. Has it been longer? Have I imagined Ambrose in this house? Him touching me? His kiss? It wouldn’t be the first time I thought of those things. Is he really gone? Is Shane right? No, because Annabelle had gotten text messages today, and she talks about Ambrose like he’s here, like he’s alive.
God, he has to be alive.
I won’t live.
I couldn’t survive.
My mind is spiraling, and there’s nothing soft on the floor for my moving fingers to reach for. My hoodie offers comfort as I rush through old memories.
We ran through the snow.
Ambrose had no shoes.
He was so cold.
But he saw the colorful truck and the teenagers who helped us. He ran from them, not trusting anyone to help us.
Doctors spoke of his scars and injuries at the hospital.
I cuddled with him on the bed. The mattress was hard, and the pillow was wet from tears.
I remember it all.
But I could have imagined it all.
A dark place opens up to me—a world without Ambrose.
Was us surviving together real?
It was real.
It has to be real.
