“Lab,” I say, almost involuntarily. “That’s our dog—”

“Butterball.” He nods.

“Cup. Buttercup.” Eyes narrowing, wondering how he got that one wrong if Riley’s truly standing beside him.

But he just nods, going on to say, “She says she can’t stay long since she’s keeping quite busy these days, but she wants you to know that she’s with you, a lot more than you think.”

“Really?” I fold my arms and lean back in my seat. “Then why doesn’t she show herself?” I frown, abandoning my vow to keep silent and indulging my frustration with her. “Why doesn’t she do something to make herself known?”

Jude gives a half smile, lips quirking the tiniest bit when he says, “She’s showing me a tray of—” He pauses, squinting as he continues, “brownies. She wants to know if you enjoyed them?”

I freeze, remembering the brownies Sabine made a few weeks ago, and how the smallest piece was marked with my initial, the largest with Riley’s, just like she used to do back when my mom used to make them—

I look at Jude, throat so tight no words can get past. Struggling to compose myself as he says, “She also wants to know if you enjoyed the movie—the one she showed you in—”

Summerland. I close my eyes, fighting back tears, wondering if my blabbermouth sister is going to tell him about that, but he just shrugs, and ends it right there.

“Tell her—” I start, voice so hoarse and scratchy I’m forced to clear my throat and start again. “Tell her yes to everything—all of it. And tell her that—that I love her—and miss her—and to please say hi to Mom and Dad—and that she really needs to help me find a way so I can talk to her again—because I need—”

“That’s where I come in,” he says, voice quiet, subdued, eyes seeking mine. “She wants me to be our go-between since she can’t speak directly to you—at least not outside of your dreams. Though she wants you to know she can always hear you.”

I look at him, skepticism taking over again. Our go-between? Would Riley really want that? Does that mean she trusts him? And if so, why? Does she know about our past? And what’s that about our dreams—last time she appeared in my dream it was more like a nightmare. A riddle-filled nightmare that didn’t make any sense.

I look at Jude again, wondering if I can trust him—if he’s somehow making this up? Maybe the twins told him—maybe he Googled the accident and—

“She’s leaving,” he says, nodding as he smiles and waves good-bye at my supposedly invisible sister. “Would you like to say anything before she goes?”

I grip the sides of my seat, gazing down at the desk as I struggle to breathe. The space feeling suddenly cramped, confined, as though the ceiling is dropping as the walls cave in. Having no idea if I can trust him, if Riley is here, if any of this is even real.

All I know is that I need to get out of here.

Get some air.

His voice calling after me as I spring from the desk and bolt for the door—having no idea where I’m headed, but hoping it’s vast, open, far from him.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I run out the door and head for the beach, heart racing, mind spinning, forgetting to slow down to a more normal speed until I’m already there. Toes tipped toward the water, a cloud of sand and bewildered people left in my wake. Each of them squinting and shaking their heads, telling themselves they imagined it, couldn’t possibly be. No one can run that fast.

No one who appears as normal as me.

I abandon my flip-flops and wade farther in, at first stopping to roll the hem of my jeans, then deciding not to care when a wave comes and wets them to my knees. Just wanting to feel something—something tangible, physical—a problem with an obvious fix. Unlike the kind I’ve been wrestling with.

And though I’m no stranger to loneliness, I’ve never felt quite as lonely as this. I’ve always had someone to go to. Sabine—Riley—Damen—my friends—but now with my entire family gone, Sabine busy with Munoz, my boyfriend on a break, and friends I can’t confide in—what’s the point?

What’s the point of having these powers, the ability to manipulate energy and manifest things, if I can’t manifest the one thing I really want?

What’s the point of seeing ghosts when I can’t see the ones who actually mean something to me?

What’s the point of living forever if I’m forced to live it like this?

I go deeper, ’til I’m up to mid-thigh, never having felt so alone on such an overcrowded beach, so helpless on such a bright and sunny day. Refusing to budge when he comes up from behind, grasping my shoulder and trying to pull me away from the waves. Enjoying the slam of water as it wets my skin, the ceaseless push and pull, luring me in.

“Hey.” His eyes narrowed against the sun as he studies me closely, refusing to loosen his grip ’til he’s sure I’m okay. “What do you say we head back inside?” Voice calm, careful, as though I’m fragile, delicate, capable of doing just about anything.

I swallow hard and hold my ground, gaze fixed on the horizon when I say, “If you were joking—if you were in any way playing me—” I shake my head, unable to finish, but the threat is implied.

“Never.” He squeezes tighter, holding me steady, pulling me up and over a small oncoming wave. “You read me, Ever. That very first day. You know what I can do—what I can see.” I take a deep breath, about to speak when he adds, “And just so you know, she’s been with you several times since. Not every time, but most of them. Though this is the first time she spoke.”