Page 48 of Ghost Hunted

Their usual back-and-forth banter is edged with something painful that makes me want to hug Piper. It feels horribly awkward to exist in this way, right at the outskirts of her life.

“I’m sorry that happened, but I’m glad you found your way back to each other,” I settle on.

Then I try yet again to find the right question.

I let out a breath of relief when Logan comes back, carrying a bag with the McDonald’s logo.

“Ew, Logan!” Piper scrunches up her nose. “You couldn’t find anything better than that crap?”

“The pizza place was closed.” Logan empties the plastic bag of its contents, laying a number of wrapped hamburgers on the table and two cartons of fries.

“Pizza?” Piper’s grimace deepens. “We’re in Ireland. You couldn’t have found something, uhm, Irish?”

“Like a potato? Don’t French fries count?”

Sighing, Piper heads toward the table. I follow, looking around uncertainly at all the chairs and the food. The fog I’ve been struggling with is compounded by all these choices. It’s objectively insane that I’d struggle over what chair to sit in or which of the burgers to pick, but my mind feels so heavy, so sluggish...

I heave out a breath of relief when Logan pulls me onto his lap and slides a burger and fries over to me.

“Did you girls reconnect?” he asks, unwrapping my burger for me then placing it in my hands. “What did you talk about?”

“Uhm...” Piper shrugs. “College. Boyfriends.”

“Oh yeah? Did she tell you what a gem I am?” Logan grins and takes a bite out of his burger.

“We-e-ll...” Piper chews on a fry. “We talked more about me, actually.”

“And that’s how it should be,” Logan tells her. “You’re our daughter. It’s only right that we should be asking the questions.” He glances at me, and whatever he sees makes his grin fade. “Let’s hurry up and eat. Lia’s exhausted.”

“No,” I say. It’s not exhaustion. I don’t know what’s going on with me, but it’s not exhaustion. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. I have shrapnel in my head, a bullet wound in my arm, and a serious lack of skin on my torso, so eat your burger and let’s hit the hay.” He winks at Piper. “How’s that for a boomer expression?”

12

Logan

Istare at my sleeping girl. I’ve been staring at her most of the night, incapable of sleep. It’s hard to believe my ghost girl is really here. I’m scared to close my eyes, scared that if I do, she’ll vanish into thin air.

I can’t lose her again.

But fear creeps up my chest, clawing at my throat, as I think of how she aimed that rocket gun at me. It was the look in her eyes that terrified me—the look that said she had no idea who I was.

And what if she had managed to denotate it? It was true, what I told Piper. She has every right to shoot me. But if she’d shot me with that bazooka, she’d have killed our daughter too.

The old rhythm echoes in my mind.

If your wife and child were stuck in a burning building, who would you save?

I have no fucking idea.

And then there’s Jane.

I sigh, leaning back against the headboard, my hand reaching out to stroke my girl’s face. Then I grab my phone and send a message to the person I guess I’ll always turn to. No matter how much of an asshole he is.

Logan: Hey.

Damien: Hey, fuckface. How’s the ghost?