23

“LITTLE LATE FOR LUCK, isn’t it?”

My eyes fly open. I’m in Ethan’s car. He’s sitting with one hand on the ignition, the other pointing at my necklace.

I look down at it. “It’s not for me. It’s for Madison.” I open my mouth to explain, but he gives me a smile so small and weak that it stops me.

“You’re on Aimée’s side now?”

“Ethan, there aren’t any sides. Madison’s unstable. I’m worried about her.”

“What did you remember earlier when we were with Drew?” He pulls the key from the ignition and turns to face me.

“That’s not important right now.”

“I want to know,” he insists, almost yelling.

I lean away from him. “I’m sorry about leaving you at lunch, but I wasn’t picking Aimée or anyone else over you. It’s not like that.”

“I’m getting used to you leaving,” he murmurs. The awkward silence that follows makes his Sebring seem the size of a Smart car.

It takes me a second to find my voice. “That room Drew took you to … I’ve been there before.”

Ethan’s eyes narrow, widen, and narrow again. “With who?”

My words feel trapped behind my suddenly taut lips.

When I don’t answer he says, “Please don’t lie to me anymore.”

I force myself to look at him. His eyes are glistening and his mouth is slightly open. I think of the hundreds of times I’ve kissed those lips and touched them with my fingertips. It should’ve been enough; it would be now.

I want to wrap my arms around him and take away everything sad and replace it with warmth and pleasure. I want to kiss him so much my lips burn. I lost track of our hundreds of kisses a long time ago, but now I can feel each and every one of them rising to the surface. I look down, half expecting to see them marked on me.

“The day before my party,” I answer, “Drew asked me to meet him there. He said he knew what I’d been doing.”

“You mean with Caleb?” Ethan says. I nod. “Did you invite Caleb to your party?” he presses.

“No,” I insist.

Ethan throws his hands up. “You’re such a liar.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I suck at lying to you. You know that.”

“You must be pretty good at it if you convinced me to take care of your drunk friend while you met up with some other guy.”

“It wasn’t like that. Madison—” Is teetering on the edge as we speak and needs your help, I finish in my head, but before the words can form, I’m making excuses, explaining why I went to the bridge. “She planned the whole party as a setup.” My entire body is shaking and it’s like my mouth isn’t attached to any logical part of me, like something supermundane is choosing my words for me. There’s no way I’m going to be able to help Madison if I can’t even speak for myself. “I needed to end it with Caleb before…”

“What?” Ethan asks in a harsh tone. “Say it.”

The words come rushing out as if he pulled away a twig at the crux of a dam. “Drew threatened to tell you about Caleb if I didn’t. I was going to wait until after my party so I wouldn’t ruin it for everyone, but Caleb showed up because Madison invited him and I … I didn’t have a choice.”

Ethan arches his eyebrows. “You were the only one in any of this that did have a choice, Cassidy, and you chose to lie.” I want to scream at him that he lied too, about Mica and Nancy and being on the bridge, but I don’t because he’s right. And he doesn’t even seem angry about it, which makes me feel worse.

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.

“Well,” Ethan continues, his voice so even it makes me feel like a total creep, “did you do it?” I look up at him, still unable to answer. “Did you really sit him down in the middle of your birthday party and explain how it was fun while it lasted, but it was over?”

I blink back tears. “It wasn’t fun—that’s not why.” I start over. “I met him on the bridge to end it because I didn’t want to make a big scene.”

Ethan laughs a humorless laugh. “I don’t know who’s worse, you or him.” Me. It’s me. “The part that gets me the most is I can’t even be mad at you.”

I turn sideways in my seat, facing him. “Yes, yes you can. You should.”

“Cassi, you’re dead.” He lets that sink in. “What’s the point?”

I ignore the pain attacking my insides. “You have every right to—”

“To what? Hate my not-so-dead girlfriend?” He slips his hand underneath mine, and despite the overwhelming pain and self-loathing I feel, his warmth makes the corners of my mouth turn up. “What you did hurt. But you didn’t deserve to die for it.”

I shake my head. “I can’t believe you’re not mad at me.”

“Oh, I’m definitely mad at you. And at Drew for knowing and not telling me, and at Madison for setting you up, and at Caleb and Mica—even at the friggin’ bridge for being old and brittle. I’m so mad at so many things I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with me. Why have you been so nice?” I ask.

“Because we fought, okay!” I wince at his outburst. He slams the heels of his hands into the steering wheel, then pushes them through his disheveled hair. “The last thing I said to you was ‘Leave me alone,’ and then you were … gone. For good.” He looks over at me with some unidentifiable emotion burning in his eyes. “But you came back.”

So that’s why he agreed to help me remember. He felt guilty for yelling at me before I died. None of this was his fault and he felt guilty—I made him feel guilty. And now I wanted to ask him to help Madison. Would I ever stop hurting him?

“You told me to leave you alone and I did the complete opposite,” I say, astounded.

“It’s not like you had control over it.”

“Didn’t I? You said it yourself, I had a choice. Maybe … I can’t believe I cheated on you and then forced my way back into your life when you should’ve been left alone to grieve and get over me.” I blink, expecting tears to fall, but my eyes are dry. I turn to leave.

“No!” Ethan cries out desperately, grabbing my arm. “Cassi, I don’t want you to go. I’m mad, but I still love you. We’ll find Aimée and figure everything out. Please don’t leave. What if you don’t—” His voice catches. “Please. Stay.” His expression crumbles. I want to pick up the pieces, comfort him, take away his pain, but my being here is why he hurts.

“This isn’t fair to you, Ethan. I’m not alive. It’s … not right.” His grip tightens as I pull my arm away from him, but the smooth texture of my new skin slips away easily.

“Cassi.” Once I’m out of the car, I turn to look at him from the other side of the passenger window. He says “I love you” softly behind the glass, but I hear him clearly.

I love you too, I reply silently. That’s why I have to leave.