Page 10 of Before the Summer He Found Her

Channah smiles, as if the information makes her feel even more comfortable around me. “It’s okay. I’m the same way, so I get it. I really struggled with that for a long time, too. My dad had to work with me to get me to accept what was happening—to get me to accept I wasn’t going crazy. My dad showed me how to trust my instincts again.”

Ah, good. We’re returning the focus back to her. Figuring it might lead to her ghost stories—and to whether she’s seenme—I ask, “Your family… are they, umm, still into the paranormal?”

A flicker of pain crosses her features. Then, I watch her eyes soften, and the sadness fades away.

She smiles brightly, but there’s the slightest crack in her armor, and I see the sadness behind it. “Oh, yeah. Mom and Dad are still ghost obsessed as always. Kinda makes the holidays hard, y’know? I’ve never spent it with just them.”

“Ha,” I say, keeping my composure neutral, despite my desire to ask her about her reaction to the mention of her parents. “That’s a very unique situation.”

I hesitate for a moment, wanting more information. Wanting so desperately to simply tell her the truth but knowing I shouldn’t.

Swallowing, I add, “So… you and your parents can actuallyseeghosts? What does one look like to you when they appear? A solid figure? A translucent image?”

“Umm, my family and I sense spirits, yeah. You’ve heard the term clairvoyant, I’m sure. Well, there are different ways to psychically feel and sense spirits—these are known asclairs. We don’t exactly see ‘ghosts’ the way they’re portrayed on TV, not typically.”

“You’veneverseen a ghost like that, then? Or seen anything abnormal appear?”

“Oh… well… yes,” she says softly, and her expression twists into something reflective, as if she’s doing her own time traveling, sifting through events in her mind. Her lips curl into a half smile. “There was this ghost once. I could actually see him, eyes wide open, same as you when you used that device. The spirit really likedStar Trek,just like me. He was… he was special.”

The moment she says it, I don’t know how I know, I simply know she meansme. A lot of people likeStar Trek, but it doesn’t matter. My gut, my intuition, tells me there is no one else this could be. I keep trying to tell myself that logically this makes no sense. That I need to consult my brain. But Channah herself told me to believe my heart, to believe the instinctual feeling. And now I can’t stop myself from believing this all might be real.

I might have actually spoken to Channah in the past.

Except we didn’t talk aboutStar Trek.

Which…

Which.

Oh, fucking hell.

…which might imply I’ve gone back in.

If this is even real. I’m still skeptical.

Despite the fact I know in my gut it’s all true.

As with everything in life, I am so torn.

Channah’s still smiling as if lost in the memory of this spirit, this ghost, who might very well be me. No, I fuckingknowit’s me. The dreamy expression on her face tells me that if this is me—which it is—I’ve royally fucked with our work dynamic.

But wait.

If I had fucked with our work dynamic, and she met me in the past, then why have we never had any issues in the present? Yes, we’re a little friendly at times, but that isn’t exactly unheard of in this world between a boss and their employs. We’re not sleeping together, and there’s never been any direct flirting. And while I’ve noticed her cute expressions, and the way her eyes sparkle, all of that is utterly unavoidable to see. It’s only natural to notice how pretty she is. I’m notblind. All this to say, I’ve never sensed her glancing at me in any way that would be deemed unprofessional.

She must somehow not know it’s me.

“Did you see your ghost friend as clearly as you see a living person?” I ask, pressing once more.

“Oh, no, definitely not. He wasn’t much more than a fuzzy image, but I did see him with my eyes wide open. Seeing him was… the most phenomenal experience of my entire life. Really got me thinking about the bigger picture of our universe and soul connection.”

Ah. Okay.

Not much more than a fuzzy image.

Another piece of the puzzle completed.

When we make eye contact, she’s not glancing at me in any special way. There are no signs that she might realize her ghost friend and me are one in the same. She’s simply smiling in her typical jovial manner, and I’m internally losing my metaphorical shit, all the while talking myself off the ledge since she is one of the people I manage, and I can’t let her see that frantic side of me.

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