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“I wish I had known you.”
“Me too.”
I let out a slow sigh. “I still don’t understand any of this. But, you know what, you’re here. We have this strange connection. That’s gotta mean something, huh?”
“It means everything.”
I didn’t get what he meant by that, but I let all the questions roll away. I couldn’t get the image of Jamie out of my head—hearing him say he hated himself. I kept picturing him alone. I kept picturing the rest of that story. I kept picturing the way he must have felt as he cried himself to sleep that night. My insides tightened as I imagined the final day of his life.
“Jamie,” I whispered. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Stay with you?” He lifted his eyes.
“Stay with me. All night. I… I didn’t like waking up alone the last time. Not after we’d shared such a moment.” I took a deep breath. “If you have to go after that, I get it. But tonight… the whole night… I don’t want to be alone.”
I took his hand then. Guided him with me through the dark and up the stairs, down the hall alongside the banister. We stepped in sync with one another, reaching my bedroom. I crawled on top of the mattress, never dropping his fingers from my grip, and threw the sheets over us both. He wrapped his arms over me, and I sunk my head against him, nestled between the area where his chin and neck met.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll stay. Just promise me one thing?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to stay, too.”
I didn’t have to ask him what he meant by that.
“Okay,” I said. “I promise that… I’ll try.”
And for the first time ever, I meant the words.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Awake
In the morning, I opened my eyes to find Jamie’s arms around mine, his stomach against my back. His limbs fell limply against me, as if he were actually sleeping and/or lifeless.
Considering he’d already physically died, I opted for the former.
Which sounded just as crazy, that a spirit would actually need sleep. I couldn’t get over how incredible this whole thing seemed. Or how real his body felt. The light hairs and freckles on his arms. The way I could feel him breathing against me, little snores escaping his nose. How organically physical he seemed, despite the obvious lack of flesh. How was this even possible?
He let out another subtle snore, his chest rising and falling. I remembered waking up with him in the dorm rooms after we’d slept together. The way he held me—just like this. My insides tingled, butterflies fluttering around my stomach. Both at his proximity to me now and at the memory from all those year ago.
As the events from last night and earlier this morning played in my head, I was afraid to move. Scared I’d finally wake up from the dream. I knew it was real, but my mind kept on saying… nothing lasts forever.
He’ll be gone before you know it.
He’s not your husband, Jemma. And even if he was… what would tie him to you?
Besides… Jamie’s dead.
And there’s something about this that’s too good to be true.
I squirmed within his arms at that final thought, and he rustled. Signaling to me he was waking up. He groaned, twisting slightly.
“Spirits actually sleep?” I asked, unsure of whether he’d heard my thoughts.
“Sort of. Yeah.” His voice sounded groggy. He paused for a moment. Then added, “I think… I’m just not used to this whole spirit thing yet. I forget sometimes.”
“So…”
