Page 166 of Haunt Me

“My lyrics,” I gasp, my throat completely dry. Terror blinds me, and only Wes’ arm on my elbow is holding me upright. “Has it been leaked that she writes my lyrics? Have they linked her name to Issy Woo?”

“Not that I know of,” he says. “She is safe in that regard.” I breathe brokenly. I am never releasing my new album. Never, if it’s going to put her at risk. “Look,” Wes goes on, “this happened nearly two weeks ago, and things have… progressed rather rapidly.”

I’m only half-listening to him.

Because I am already scrolling on my phone, looking for the poems.

Wes tries to snatch the phone from my hand, while his director follows us around and nearly drops to his knees to beg him to get back to the shoot. Spencer lifts his hand, palm up, and the man disappears, giving us some privacy.

Waves break over the sandbar behind us, but I don’t see them, I don’t hear them.

I find Eden’s new poems and I start reading them, standing there on the beach, two feet away from the car that drove me here. I don’t move a muscle. I don’t move an inch.

There are so many poems. So many.

I readSurvivor. I readSo You Don’t Want To Stay,Get Myself LostandMultiverse. ThenSmaller. I read that one twice over, my whole body shaking. My eyes go blind with tears.

“I need to t-talk to her right now,” I say, barely able to get the words out. That thing she said about watching me kiss other girls inGet Myself Lostjust about murdered me.

All her pain just poured out of these words at me and I… I can’t stand it. I want to run until I reach her, wherever she is, and hold her tightly until the pain disappears. I want to annihilate the very memory of pain for her. But no. That’s not what she wants, is it? In these poems, Eden is wearing her grief on her sleeve. She is wearing it calmly and with dignity, like a cape covering the body of a warrior. Like glory.

“I need to see her, I need to explain…” I can’t breathe.

Wes’ hand is on my shoulder, gripping me tight, keeping me upright.He’s still here. He’s been waiting for me while I read.My hands are shaking so hard, I drop my phone on the pebbles. I am barely able to concentrate on Wes’ voice, barely able to get in some air.

“Isaiah,” Spencer’s voice grounds me. “Isaiah, I read the poems too. Listen to me, man. She is really talented, man she is talented. But the first thing that hit me when I read them… It honestly hit me like a punch with every word…”

“What?”

“That she’s not over you.”

I freeze.The ground spins.

“She’s not?” I ask like a dumb person.

“No,” Wes repeats. “Remember when you asked me if it’s too late? It’s not, here is proof. But, Zay, look at me for a second.” His ocean blue eyes pore into mine. “You need to calm the heck down before you meet her. She’ll be here any second, and, for the love of—Please try to play it cool.”

He keeps looking at me, that intense gaze of his willing me to pull myself together, before he finally has to leave. He’s already wasted too much time talking to me while his crew waits for him, but he jogs back to the shoot as if it’s no big deal. That’s Wes: effortlessly cool, no matter what.

I, on the other hand, have zero chill.

‘Try to play it cool,’he said. Yeah, there is no chance that’s happening.

I join the small group of people gathered to watch the scene being filmed. We just sit there, not making a sound, as Wes and Ari perform a spectacular set of choreographed fencing match in the shallow water. They are both wearing Regency clothes, Ari’s hair tucked into a wig to make her look like a rakish gentleman. She is almost as tall as Spencer, and from afar, they do look like dueling gents.

This scene is so hot, I gotta find myself the book it’s based on, I think.Eden will love it, I bet.

Then I remember that I’m no longer talking to Eden. I focus on the scene being filmed in front of me, trying to block out all other thoughts.

Ari and Wes work so well together: tireless and coordinated, they move as one, their bodies perfectly in sync. I know Spencer’s work ethic is legendary, but I’ve never seen him in action before. My jaw is literally on the floor.

Twenty minutes later, the director gives them a timeout and they flop to the ground, gasping for breath. During the break, Theo arrives and I jog over to give him a tight hug—which he hates. But this once, he returns it and I look up, surprised. Oh. Now I see the reason Theo has gone soft.

Eden is walking behind him. They came together.

“You-you look like an angel.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even process that she is here.

Everyone around us freezes.

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