Page 58 of Melancholia

“No.” The whispered confession is out before I can think to lie.

“What about when you sleep?” His eyes flick up to pin mine, and my heart flutters.

“No.”

“Good girl.”

The only thing that saves me from embarrassment is Noctis pushing between us with his tail wagging and his butt whipping back and forth along with it. He pushes the ball into my hand and backs up a few steps, barking a hitch pitched begging sound until I turn and send it flying again. Once more he’s charging after it, and Amir takes the ball from Umbra to toss it straight up in the air for her. She gives him a look, as if to ask, ‘really?’ before launching up at the last second to catch it in her jaws.

Amir doesn’t speak before taking my hand in his long fingers, skin warm against mine. I follow him, though I do pause when Noctis comes back, once again throwing the ball for him to go after. “They really like this, huh?” I ask as Amir pulls me down onto a bench beside him. When my heart skips a beat again, some part of me realizes I’m not as afraid of him as I used to be.

As I need to be.

Andrew’s face swims up into my mind but I push it away before he can manifest as a ghost. But something in my face must give me away, because when Amir speaks, it’s to ask, “Is there anyone else here? Or is it just us?”

“It’s always just us,” I immediately reply, feeling defensive and a little snappy. Amir tilts his head, something in his eyes that warns me to be careful with my tone.

I drop my gaze. “It’s just us,” I sigh at last. “But seriously. You understand I’m unwell, right? That I’m not really seeing ghosts? I don’t even know if I believe in ghosts. And these certainly aren’t the kind that exist outside of my own head.”

He reaches out again, fingers once more smoothing back my hair. His thumb finds my jaw and I have to hide a little shiver as he traces along it. “I know I don’t see what you see. That no one does,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t make it any less real for you. I know it can be distracting. I’ve seen how they take your attention—how they scare you when you don’t expect it.”

“They don’t scare—” I begin, but he swipes his thumb against my lower lip, easily convincing me to shut up.

“I’m not a therapist, Nell. I’m not going to send you to a hospital or tell anyone you’re a danger to yourself. I’m only asking for you to be honest with me.” He settles back when both dogs crowd us, and I take that moment to let Umbra examine me, her nose sniffing from my leggings up to my hands. She pays careful attention to my fingers, and I wonder if she can smell the death that I work with almost every day.

“They don’t always scare me,” I relent at last, not looking at him as he throws the ball for Noctis again. “Sometimes they’re sort of welcome. I know rationally they aren’t really there. But I get lonely.” And I don’t know why I’m telling him this.

He doesn’t need to know, and I should be worried he’ll use the information against me instead of just absorbing it as a friend.

Which, I remind myself, he is not. Nor is he my partner. He’s…

He’s just Amir.

“Do you still see Andrew?”

“Yes.” The word comes out as a whisper and I turn to look at him from under my lashes. “Why did you kill him?”

The silence stretches out between us until the shadows from the trees are almost touching our feet in front of the bench. It lasts for three throws of Noctis’ ball, and long enough for Umbra to decide I should make myself useful by scratching her back and neck with all my might.

“That’s not the game we’re playing tonight,” he says at last, though I notice he chooses his words carefully. That’s something to file away for later. If there’s a chance he’ll tell me, I really want to know.

For research.

For the inevitable moment when I become an ace investigator and slap down all of my information on Adele’s desk so she can go arrest him before he does something to anyone else.

Except, when I think about my moment of triumph, it feels wrong. It makes something twist in my stomach that I don’t like, and I can’t help but immediately abandon the idea like it burns me.

“Then what’s the game we’re playing tonight?” I ask at last as the curiosity threatens to eat me alive. “Rummy?”

“Do you play Rummy?”

“Used to. Haven’t played since…” I trail off, not ready to talk about my stint in the mental hospital just yet. But the older patients there liked me, or just felt bad for me. “I’m actually sort of an expert in old person card games.”

“Then we’ll have to play sometime. But not tonight. I don’t have a deck of cards on me, unfortunately.” He settles back against the bench, the thick fiber of his coat brushing against me. Not that I mind. It’s like having a living radiator whenever we’re outdoors.

Especially with him between my thighs, his fingers deep inside⁠—

“Would you rather.” He doesn’t go on, though I expect him to. Only sits there and looks at me until I relent.