Page 124 of Haunt Me

“No,” I reply. “I’m not ok. Nothing about this is ok.” A butterfly floats by, fluttering for a second around my ankles before flying off. It makes me think of Eden.

Exquisite. Fragile. Powerful. Reborn from what felt like death.

“Do you want to leave?” James asks me.

I glance at the two security guards following us from a respectful distance. There’s no way any crazy fans could ever find me here. We took all the precautions and then some, so that’s at least one less thing to worry about. I think. I hope.

“We are not leaving,” I say, trying to breathe normally. Or just breathe, however I can. “We are going in.”

So we do.

I thought I would be curious to see the inside of the house, but I barely notice anything, because the minute we walk in, my eyes fall on Eden’s dad.

I recognize his eyes at once—they are Eden’s eyes. My own go wet as I look at him, everything else fading around us. I didn’t even get a chance to look at her sisters, they are just two blurry figures standing next to him.

But all my attention is on him.

Gosh, he looks so much like Eden. I swallow past the lump in my throat.

He is a tall dude who looks like special forces cop—or rather, as if he’s playing one on TV. He is almost too good-looking for a real-life dad. He’s younger than I expected, taller, stronger. His cheeks are chiseled, the same sharp lines that I have memorized in Eden’s face since she was a teen. His hair and beard are a darker auburn shade than Eden’s real hair and peppered with gray, but he looks vibrant, smart and full of life. And, right now, pale as a corpse.

I just stand there, mouth agape, as he takes two steps towards me. Before even meeting my eyes, a sob burst out of him, the sound strange, poignant, unexpected. He turns his face away, and walks up to Mom instead. He takes her hands in his and kisses them.

“Thank you,” he says to her, his voice thick with tears. “Thank you for raising such a young man, who kept my daughter alive when I couldn’t.”

“I didn’t keep…” I start saying, embarrassed beyond words, but a girl steps out of the shadows.

I know her at first glance. It’s Faith. She is the spitting image of Eden, except that her hair is a blonder shade of red. She steps up to me quickly and shushes me.

Shushes me.

What a fine beginning this is: tears and shushing.

I thought Manuela would be the more vocal of the two, but out of the corner of my eye, I see her biting her lip and struggling not to cry. She is less alike her dad in looks than the other two, even though she is the only one near his height. Apparently, she has inherited his emotions as well. Although I would pay good money to find someone in this living room who is not about to become a blubbering mess.

Eden, thankfully, is nowhere to be seen.

Small mercies.

“Isaiah is right here,” mom says gently to Mr. Elliot. “He would really love to meet you.”

I gulp down my panic and swallow. James clears his throat above my left my ear, and I can almost hear him think at me:Hold it together, you idiot. I would if I could. I straighten up my spineand clutch the lapels of my jacket.You can do this, I tell myself, fully knowing I can’t.

I’ll probably end up crying too.

I prepare to give Eden’s dad my hand, even though I’m shaking so hard he can probably tell, but to my surprise, Mr. Elliot turns his back on me, hiding his face with his hand.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I can’t meet the young man right now.”

“It’s all right,” Mom tells him, placing her hand on his elbow.

How does she always know what to do? She smiles at me behind Mr. Elliot’s shaking back, calm as anything. I know what that smile means:Give him space.

I turn to Faith and Manuela.

“I hope he’s ok,” I tell them helplessly.

“He’s fine,” Faith says at the same time that Manuela says:

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