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And when she looked at him, she did not know if he was wrong. He looked just like Brad, but a more muscular version of him, and not as tanned.

Her heart, her soul, her body, were reaching for Andor, and only for him, but her mind—

Her mind was confused.

Hurt.

“You’re right,” she said. “You should not become a ghost, Andor. But, so that you know, you are well on the way.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You’re becoming a ghost yourself. Your life is an escape. All you do is run away, terrified of the one thing you really must do.”

He stood like a mountain above her, yet his eyes showed his pain, the depth of his despair, the expanse of his fear.

“What must I do, Cathy?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

“Forgive yourself.”

He jerked and turned away. “You do not know what you are talking about.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “But I know a coward when I see one—the mirror has shown me enough times. You are running away again. And until you can forgive yourself, you will never live a full life. Well, any life for that matter.”

He looked at her, his chin high, his eyes dark, his nostrils flared. “Maybe that is exactly the destiny that I deserve.”

She swallowed and shook her head. “It isn’t, Andor. Ask yourself this. If it was reversed, and you died because Svana failed to come back in time, would you have wanted her to move on with her life or would you want her to live like this, crippled by guilt, all the life sucked out of her? If you loved her, what would you wish for her?”

Andor grimaced, his face a tight mask of disgust and anger, and his eyes glistened with pain.

“I would never want her to live a crippled life, because she would have always kept her word to me. And I did not.”

Cathy shook her head.

“So. Here we are. A ghost and the time traveler who loves him.”

Andor’s fists clenched.

Cathy looked around. “I must go. Maybe I can ask Fridstein to take me to the mound.”

“Be my guest.”

She held his gaze for the last time, her whole body hurting at the thought of leaving him, as though he was a part of her body that was being torn away.

“Goodbye, Andor,” she said.

Without waiting for his answer, she turned and walked away.

“Goodbye, Cathy,” she thought she heard him say, and she sped up, tears filling her eyes, and began running, before she could turn back to him and beg him to take her back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Los Angeles, January 31, 2019

Waves crashed against the shore. The sound was familiar and calmed Cathy down, relieving the tension in her chest and allowing her to suck in air. Cold, wet. People’s voices. Gray light seeped through her closed eyelids.

Where was she? England?

She hadn’t heard the sound of waves in weeks.