I race down the sidewalk toward the harbor. The cold air seeps through my clothes.

“Sam!” Jaxon yells, running after me. He grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. “What the hell just happened in there?”

I look back at the restaurant, disoriented. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Jaxon takes note of my jittery hands. He unzips his coat and puts it around my shoulders. “Let me get my truck. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Yes. No. I can’t go home yet. I don’t want my dad to see me like this. I just need a minute to think.”

Jaxon looks over his shoulder. “How about we go to my studio?”

I nod.

I follow Jaxon down the brick sidewalk through the moonlit streets and work on slowing my heart rate. He stops near a streetlamp, pulls out a key, and unlocks an old door. The house is two stories tall with charcoal-gray trim around the windows. The arched roof has dark shingles, reminiscent of a cottage, that are spotted with greenish, mossy patches, I guess from being so close to the water.

He pushes the door open.

The house has a stronger version of Jaxon’s pine scent. He flicks on a light switch and closes the door behind us.

The room has high ceilings with exposed beams, hardwood floors, and walls whose chipping paint reveals other colors behind the cream top coat. It’s filled with workbenches and beautifully carved furniture.

I run my hand along a rustic wooden table with a complicated grain.

“That’s one of my new favorites,” he says, and comes to stand next to me. “See how there are no seams? It’s one piece of wood. It took me a long time to find it. It’s the type of thing my dad used to make for my mom. I’m a…I’m giving it to her for her birthday.”

I look up at Jaxon. He rarely talks about his dad. “It’s perfect. She’ll love it.”

He beams at the compliment. “Come, sit down.”

I make my way to a navy-blue couch in front of a fireplace, and I sink into the soft cushions. He flips a switch and flames shoot up in the hearth.

I type into a group text I have with the Descendants.

Me: I just saw the drowned man again. Can we meet up sooner?

Jaxon grabs a first-aid box off the mantel and sits down next to me. “Let’s take a look at that arm.”

I slip his coat off. “Sorry I ruined our dinner.”

“Actually, you didn’t ruin it at all. I got a few good bites in before you took down our table.” Jaxon adjusts my sweater, trying to get at the cut. “Can you take this off? I mean, do you have a T-shirt or something underneath?”

“No, but…” I pull my arm out of the sleeve and readjust the fabric around my side so that my bra isn’t showing.

The cut isn’t deep, but it’s a good three inches long. What did I land on? A knife? A piece of glass? Jaxon dabs the cut with an alcohol wipe and I wince.

His sandy hair falls in his eyes. “You saw another ghost, didn’t you?”

“He was dripping salt water.”

Jaxon tenses. “Hold on, what?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. He smelled like he’d walked straight out of the ocean. I saw him once before at school, and he scared the crap out of me then, too.”

“So you’ve been seeing ghosts a lot, then?”

I pause. “Define ‘a lot.’ ”

“I’m pretty sure that answers my question. Besides looking creepy as hell, though, is there anything they can do? I mean, can they blow out all the lights or—”

“Actually…I’m not sure. What I do know, though, is that spirits feel exactly like living people to me. Solid.”

“So this guy could’ve hurt you?”

I nod. “Probably. Hence the backpedaling and destroying the restaurant.”

“So any dead lunatic could wander in and potentially do something to you? Do you even know what this guy wanted or who he was?” Jaxon squeezes antibiotic cream onto my arm and covers it with a piece of gauze.

I help him hold it in place while he tapes it up. “It’s complicated.”

Jaxon lets go of my arm, and I slip it back into my sweater. “Okay, start from the beginning. We both know I’m not great with all the magic stuff, but I’m gonna do my best.”

I consider his offer. “You know what, it might be nice if you knew.”

“Let’s make a deal,” he says. “We’ll be honest with each other, even if it’s weird and uncomfortable.”

“Deal.” I smile. “Oh, and about our conversation yesterday morning, I changed my mind. I am going to go to the dance.”

Jaxon reaches out and pulls me into a hug. His warm hands grip my back. He doesn’t come off as the guarded type, but in some ways he is. He laughs and jokes with everyone, but there is a lot more to Jaxon than his humor.

Jaxon pulls back and looks at me. He doesn’t take his arms from around my sides. Oh no. His look is focused. He’s not going to…I…Shit. He leans forward, his breath hot on my lips.

I put my hand on his chest just before his lips touch mine. “Wait.”

Jaxon lets go of me and rubs his neck. “Sorry, I definitely didn’t plan to do that. I don’t know what…Sorry.” He laughs, but his expression shows his disappointment.

My cheeks are blazing. “No, it’s fine.” I shift uncomfortably. “It’s not you. I’m just…I don’t know. We’re friends. I like our relationship the way it is.” Why did he have to do this now, when we’re finally talking? “Today has just been intense. And last night. There was this thing with this dress, and Elijah showed up.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake.

His embarrassment disappears. “Elijah’s back?”

Great, now he’s going to assume I just dropped that information to explain not kissing him. Smooth.

Jaxon’s frustration is obvious. He scans the room. “Is he here now?”

“No.” I pull at my sweater sleeves.

Jaxon focuses on me again. “And ghosts can touch you.”

I meet his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jaxon stands up so quickly that I wince.

“Hold on. Are you mad right now?”

“No.”

“You’re pacing.”

Jaxon picks up my coat. “How ’bout we call it a night.”

My mouth opens. “What happened to wanting to help me figure things out? Was that all about kissing me?”

“Don’t be stupid. I just need…Let’s just go.”

“You want me to tell you things, be honest with you. Just not the things you don’t want to hear?”

He exhales and hands me my coat.

I yank it from his hands.