Oh, God.

  I gritted my teeth. “I couldn’t help you there.”

  “No?” Disappointment clouded her expression. “But I thought that was what you do?”

  “It is, but I . . . I can’t hear Nico. I can’t connect to him.”

  She winced. “You mean you don’t want to because it’s painful?”

  I swallowed hard. “No, I mean I can’t hear him. He won’t talk to me.”

  She pulled her dark brows together. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I just can’t reach him.” I could often feel his energy around me in the early hours of dawn, like a warm breath of air hovering just out of reach. But when I tried to connect with him, he’d disappear.

  “Oh, God, Lorenzo. I’m so sorry. That must be torture.”

  “It is.” I was embarrassed when my eyes stung. I really, really didn’t want to cry in front of her. I gave a hard laugh, willing the tears to dry up. “Isn’t that just my luck? I can hear every asshole in the world except the one person I’d give anything to talk to.” I sniffed and used the napkin on the tray to wipe my nose. “Anyway, that’s just the way it is.”

  “That’s so unfair. You were so close.” She moved next to me and touched my shoulder in a comforting gesture. Carli had always been like that—warm and very touchy-feely. Nico had loved that about her because our parents had always been stingy with affection. Cold even.

  “Maybe he’s mad at me.”

  “What? No, Lorenzo. There’s no way.”

  “You know what? I don’t want to talk about Nico,” I whispered, clenching my fists. It was way too painful to even begin to remember. Too many mistakes had been made. Signs I’d missed along the way.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I understand.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” She pressed her lips together and her expression gentled. “Sometimes I hate talking about him too.”

  “It’s the past. We should try and put it behind us.” I’d probably forever be trapped in my torturous memories, but she deserved to move forward. She was so young.

  “That’s easier said than done. I miss him every day.”

  “I know. Me too.” Hanging onto my control by a thread, I grated out, “I thought you were going for a business degree. How did it turn into nursing?”

  She hesitated but then responded. “After Nico died . . . I graduated high school and planned on going to UCLA to get my business degree. But the plan had been to go with Nico.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  She winced. “Being on that campus without him just made me miss him more.”

  “I get it.” Nico had lived with me in a two-bedroom apartment in town. After his death, the silence had made the place feel like a tomb.

  “I transferred to a different private university and started with a nursing program there.” She glanced over as a male nurse pushed an elderly woman into the room in a wheelchair.

  I was relieved to see I’d have another roommate. Hopefully that would keep some of the spirits busy. They were drawn to humans, even though most humans had no idea they were even there. I returned my attention to Carli. “You got your degree that fast?”

  She smiled. “No. I still have another year. But I volunteer here three days a week. It helps to be around people.”

  I grunted. I was the complete opposite.

  “Do you still live at the Oakwood Apartments?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No. I live at the shop now.”

  “Oh.” She grimaced.

  “I couldn’t work for a while after—” I cleared my throat roughly. “The landlord didn’t feel like giving me free rent for life, so I moved.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Nah. It’s convenient living at the shop. No commute to work.” I was doing my best not to sound pathetic. I wasn’t sure if she was buying it or not.

  “I’m still at home.” She laughed self-consciously. “Mom and dad are cool with it, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. They have me pay like twenty dollars a month just so I feel like I’m contributing.”

  “At least you speak to your parents,” I said.

  She winced. “Yeah. Well, yours are dicks, and you can get mad at me for saying that if you want, but it’s true.”

  “Like I’d argue?” I loathed my parents. Surely she knew that.

  “Nico hated them so much.” Her voice shook.

  I clenched my fist. “We both did.”

  I still do.

  “After they didn’t even bother to come to the funeral. I knew then for sure that everything you and Nico had ever said about them was true.” Her jaw was tight, and her eyes glittered with anger. “What kind of parent doesn’t even come to their own child’s funeral?”

  “They’re raging alcoholics. I doubt they even remember Nico is dead.” I curled my lips with disgust. “The only reason they might have come was if they thought there was money involved. Then they’d have been here in a flash with their hands out.”

  “You and Nico turned out so well, especially considering what they were like.” She winced.

  “Nico was great,” I said hoarsely.

  She frowned. “You are too, Lorenzo.”

  I grimaced. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

  “I know.”

  I shifted, biting my lip when my incisions pulled. I grabbed the brownie off the tray just so I’d have something to do. She was watching me so intently, it was making me uncomfortable.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” I asked. I already sensed she was and figured talking about that might make her stop staring at me so closely.

  Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, um—”

  When her shame washed over me, I felt guilty about asking her that. “It’s okay if you are, Carli.”

  “It took me almost a year to be ready to even consider dating,” she said breathlessly. “I turned down a lot of guys. They couldn’t begin to compare to Nico.” She talked quickly, as if she felt she had to explain herself to me. “But . . . yeah . . . I did finally start dating someone.”

  “Carli, you don’t have to feel bad. You’re allowed to be happy.”

  She surprised me when she teared up. Sniffing she said, “I was so lonely. I tried not to like this guy, but he’s so nice and he makes me feel loved and safe.” She wiped at her eyes roughly. “Sorry. I’m so emotional. I think it’s seeing you again that’s making me like this.”

  Again, guilt nudged me because I’d upset her. I’d been selfish asking her something like that just so she’d stop focusing on me. “I think it’s great that you can move on. Please don’t think I look down on you for that.”

  “I was depressed for so long. I really was. But then I decided I either needed to live, or give up,” she whispered. “I decided to live.”

  “I’m glad. You made the right choice.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m back on track now and doing something I love.”

  “You’ll be a great nurse,” I said. “You’re very warm and kindhearted, Carli.”

  “I don’t know about that.” She sighed and returned to her food cart. She shifted some juice cartons around. “Helping people makes me feel better. Gives me a reason to live.”

  I met her sad gaze. “I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”

  She said softly, “You do too, Lorenzo.”

  “Sure.” I forced a smile, hoping I looked like I believed her. I didn’t really. My face felt tight and stiff as I met her gaze.

  “Well, I should get back to work.” She gave a sweet smile. “It was wonderful seeing you again, Lorenzo.”

  “You too.”

  She left the room, and I set the brownie back on the tray. Seeing her had jarred me. Over the past five years, I’d convinced myself that being stuck in grief was normal. Of course I was still frozen in time from my heartache. I’d told myself no one would be able to move on after tragically losing someone they loved. But Carli had moved on. My parents had moved on. The entire fucking world went on just as it had before as if nothing horrendous had ever happened.

  As I lay there with my heart aching, a chilling thought hit me; maybe Nico didn’t talk to me because he’d moved on too.

  Chapter Five

  As promised, Ian showed up to my hospital room the next day to give me a ride home. He looked relaxed in jeans and a baby blue T-shirt as he entered my hospital room. I was dressed and eager to get the hell out of the hospital. More spirits had joined the first three and I’d already thrown up twice and I had a raging headache. I’d waited to take my pain pill, thinking I might need it while walking out of the hospital. That had been a mistake. With my body cleared of the drugs, the spirits had descended on me with great enthusiasm.

  There was one spirit in particular that was draining the life out of me. He was a young Hispanic guy who’d died in the psych ward upstairs. He was convinced his death had been a set up. Apparently, I was lucky enough to be a dead ringer for his old doctor, so he wouldn’t leave my side. His energy was strong. Malevolent. He kept trying to invade my body without permission, which I was able to fend off, but it took a lot of energy. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to leave the hospital.

  Ian stopped in front of me. “You look green.”

  I swallowed my precious pain pill, washed it down with water, and pressed my fingers to my temple. “Can we just get out of here, please?”

  “Okay.” He frowned and led the way out of the hospital.

  As we approached his car I inhaled the fresh sea breeze. The briny air was an uplifting change after being cooped up in the hospital for three days. I’d endured nothing but antiseptic scents and whiffs of horrible hospital food.

  Johnson Memorial Hospital was situated at the top of a hill that overlooked the small coastal town of Fox Harbor. The town was nestled along Highway 1, with a plethora of restaurants and shops that catered to visitors during the tourist season. Even if visitors didn’t like shopping or eating out, they could still enjoy the breathtaking views of the majestic Pacific Ocean.

  After helping me settle in the passenger seat of his BMW, Ian slid behind the wheel with a sigh. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and started the car. “How are you feeling today?” he asked.

  “I’ll feel fine once the pain pills kick in.” His car smelled of coconut and lime, and it was spotless. Not a speck of dust anywhere in sight. I ran my hand over the smooth arm rest, positive it was leather and not cheap vinyl like in my car.

  “Why did you wait to take them?” Ian asked.

  I sighed. “I miscalculated. I thought they’d do me more good getting in and out of the car.”

  “Makes sense,” he said.

  “Yes, you would think so. Except the spirits that roam the hospital came calling. Many of them came at once, and my body can’t handle it.”

  He glanced over at me. “You’re saying the hospital has ghosts?”

  “Ghosts are everywhere. But hospitals, morgues, and cemeteries have them in large numbers. I avoid those places when possible because it’s overwhelming.”

  He shivered. “You’re kind of giving me the creeps.”

  “Sorry. You asked.”

  “I guess I did.” He hesitated. “They’re not in the car with us, right?”

  I laughed. “No.” I stared out the window, watching a few sail boats tacking into the harbor, their brightly colored sails whipping in the stiff breeze. “I don’t like taking drugs ordinarily.”

  “That’s unusual. Most people can’t get enough.”

  “I guess I’m not most people.” I frowned at my reflection in the window. My hair looked oily and my face haggard. I was wishing I had a pair of sunglasses. I hadn’t had a shower since my surgery. Ian looked like handsome perfection, while I resembled a hobo.

  “No, you’re a little different from the average Joe.” He glanced over, a little smirk on his lips.

  “I’m sure you mean that in a good way.”

  “Naturally.”

  I sighed. “Thanks again for the ride.”

  “Of course.”

  I fiddled with the sun visor and then turned to him abruptly. “Why did you offer?”

  He flicked on the turn signal and pulled onto the highway that hugged the coast line. “I thought we ironed this out yesterday. You needed a ride, so I offered.”

  “But you don’t do this on a regular basis?” When I’d first met him I thought he was an arrogant prick. But guys like that didn’t give patients rides home from the hospital on their day off. Did he have more depth than I’d originally given him credit for?

  “No, I don’t usually do this. You’re the only patient I’ve ever given a ride home from the hospital. Well, I take that back. I did offer Mrs. Beckom a ride once when she’d had cataract surgery.” He flashed an inquisitive smile. “Why are you so suspicious of my reason?”

  “I don’t love accepting help from strangers,” I murmured.

  “We’re not really strangers.”

  I huffed. “The main thing I know about you is you dismiss my psychic abilities.”

  “Not anymore.” He grimaced. “At least, I’m willing to admit you seem to have a gift.”

  “I guess that’s something.”

  He hesitated. “Have you always had your psychic ability?”

  I nodded. “As long as I can remember, but it’s become stronger with age.”

  “Does the psychic thing run in your family?”

  I wrinkled my brow. “It does, but it skips around a lot. My parents hated my gift. They felt it went against their religious views. They thought I was possessed by a demon.”

  “Damn.”

  “It was pretty awkward. I couldn’t control it, especially when I was a kid. My parents didn’t understand what was happening. To be honest, neither did I at first. I had one aunt on my mother’s side who was also clairvoyant, but I only saw her in person once before she died. My mother didn’t want her around and she lived in another state. Aunt Helen tried to help me hone my skills over the phone, but as you can imagine, it wasn’t optimal.”

  “I wouldn’t think so.” Ian sighed. “Sounds rough.”

  “It was, but now it’s fine. I understand how to deal with my . . . skills better now.”

  We rode in silence for a bit, and then he asked, “When you were younger, did you ever use your gift to play pranks on people?”

  “No. My skills don’t really lend themselves to that sort of thing. Like I said sometimes I can read a person’s mind. But mostly I . . . uh, just talk to dead people.”

  “Right.”

  “Eerie, I know.” It wasn’t macabre to me, but I knew the average person found the concept of communicating with the dead disturbing.

  “So, even as a kid talking to dead people didn’t freak you out?” He shivered.

  “When it first started happening, yeah, it did. Now? Not really.”

  He said, “I’d have had to sleep with a light on all the time.”

  “Oh, the light doesn’t stop them from visiting.”

  “God. Really?” He sounded startled.

  I winced. “Sorry. I’ll stop talking.”

  He smiled. “No. I think I get it. I’m the same way about blood. Other people are fainting left and right, and I’m just like, ‘What’s the big deal? It’s just blood.’”

  “Exactly.” I nodded, glad he understood.

  “I know you said your parents live out of state. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  It was an innocent question. Absolutely nothing wrong with asking something like that. And yet it made my stomach drop like an elephant jumping off a high rise. I considered not answering, or maybe changing the subject. But a part of me just wanted to answer him honestly. I wasn’t the first person to lose a sibling, and I wouldn’t be the last. So why was it so hard for me to answer a simple question the way anyone else would?

  Guilt.

  Yes. Whether it was reasonable or not, I still felt responsible for Nico’s death. There were many reasons why, but none I wanted to think about. I tried to pull together a sentence that wasn’t too defensive, or off putting. Finally, I said, “I had one brother. How about you? Do you have any siblings?”

  He gave a curt laugh as if he’d noticed my awkwardness. He didn’t call me out though. Instead he responded politely, “I have a younger brother, Toby.”

  “How old is he?” Hopefully he’d just keep answering my questions so I didn’t have to talk about myself.

  “Seventeen.”

  Nico had been the same age at the time of his death. “Is your family local?” With any luck we’d get to my house before he could ask me anything personal.

  “Yes.” He glanced at me. “Remember my dad was Mrs. Beckom’s doctor before I took over?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” I fiddled with the air vent trying to think of another question to keep him talking. “Is he anything like you?”

  “Nope. Toby’s the wild child. Or he was. I went to college and medical school like an obedient son. I was pretty boring and straitlaced. But my younger brother’s always been rebellious. He almost dropped out of high school about a hundred times. He drank a bunch and got in fights. He was a real problem until about a year ago.”

  “He saw the light?” I asked.

  He gripped the wheel tighter and his jaw tensed. “He got in a car wreck and almost died.”

  I winced. “Damn.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty scary,” he said. “But it woke him up.”

  I nodded. “That’s good. Sounds like he caught himself in time. You don’t want him turning into one of those forty-year-old men who still act like they’re in high school.”

  He shuddered. “I have an uncle like that. He’s the life of the party, according to him. Mostly we all avoid him at family functions.” I laughed, and he gave me a pleased look. “You should laugh more often, it’s nice.”

  I grunted, keeping my gaze focused on the shimmering sea. I looked forward to being home and sleeping in my own bed. I was also jazzed about taking a shower. I knew I had to be careful about the stitches, but there was no way I wasn’t showering.

  He cleared his throat. “The other day, when you were trying to find Princess, what happened?”