Page 132 of Always Be an Us

Rachel would say it when we would argued, using it as a gotcha so that I would ignore whatever she just did.

She would also weaponize it whenever she wanted me to feel bad about not loving her back

But this is different. I can tell from Emma's expression that she doesn't want anything. She really means it.

"Not all the way," she continues. "But enough that this hurts me. Which is why I think we should end things here before it hurts more. I love Amelia, and I enjoy working with you on this project, so I don’t want our feelings to get in the way of that. This is the only way I can think of to do it."

I open my mouth, but no words are forthcoming. Mostly because she’s right. She’s fucking right. And the fact that it’s her being the adult in this situation is laughable. I should have done this weeks ago. I should have broken up with her before she got her heart broken.

I let my hands drop from her shoulders.

"I’m sorry," I say again.

She smiles sadly. "It’s okay. I’ll get over it. Like I said, I’m really bad at holding a grudge." And with that, she gives me a sad smile and sidesteps me, walking away without looking back.

I spot Cross, a few paces away leaning against the wall.

When our eyes meet, he salutes and then straightens to start following her. He keeps his distance, such that anyone but a careful observer might think he's just a pedestrian. I guess Emma is more comfortable that way.

The rest of the day is just as shitty as the start. The plumber who was supposed to start working today suddenly fell ill. Hiring a new plumber would mean having someone review our septic system all over again, so a delay is inevitable.

The delays seem endless, rendered eternal by a string of bizarre coincidences.

"What are the odds that something is wrong the second that we need it?" I ask the foreman later as he stands in front of my desk.

He shrugs. "I don’t know boss, but it’s very strange. I’m starting to think this place is haunted and powers that be are preventing you from doing this."

"This nonsense again?" I shut my eyes and lean my head back on the seat.

He shrugs. "I don’t know how else we can explain it. It’s uncanny."

"It is," I admit. I'm a reasonable person but Amelia's ghost theory is starting to seem more and more plausible. How else could I explain the fact that things keep getting messed up the second we need them to work?

It's like the ghosts know each step we're about to take before we make it.

My eyes pop open as a sudden idea occurs to me.

I sit up in the chair, alarming the foreman.

"What is it boss?" he asks. "What's up?"

I shake my head. I can't voice it yet, as the idea grows in my mind, taking root and forming fruit.

Of course. Why didn’t I think about that before?

I stand and the foreman jerks back as I grab my jacket from the chair.

"I’ll be back," I say.

The drive to the police station is quick, the scenery zooming by, the quiet of the car contrasting my loud thoughts.

And when I finally step into the station, with the door clanging shut behind me, emptiness and silence meet me.

The police officer is not there, but walking down the hall reveals Nate Huntley is standing in the jail cell. He smirks at me as I approach.

"Come to ask more questions?" he mocks.

I don't have time to mess around with him. I get straight to the point.

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