Page 89 of Ghost Hunted

“Y-yes… Logan…”

“Are you hungry, baby?” He sits beside me, tossing his shirt off, and I breathe out in relief when I see the blood must come from the black hole. His fingers thread through my hair as he murmurs, “Want to eat?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t want to eat whatever’s in those bowls. The dog food, or whatever.”

“It was just cereal.” He kisses me on the tip of my nose, and the old, familiar smirk twists the sides of his lips up. “But I guess it did look like dog food, since I put it in a dog bowl.”

“I don’t want you… to put me in that cage anymore.”

“Hmm.” He presses his lips to my hands again. “I don’t want to either.”

“So you won’t?”

“I’ll try very hard not to,” he half-promises me. “But you have to behave. Okay, ghost girl?”

“O… kay.” I look away, trying to make sense of this new and painful way he has of treating me. Locking me up in a cage, and feeding me from a dog bowl.

It’s so different from how it used to be.

Or is it?

The bittersweet memories come crowding back, and I wince with the effort of trying to handle them. But they’re so vivid, so colorful. I’m not used to them. They make my brain hurt.

I don’t hear Logan until he’s asked the same question three times.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Uhm… a bagel. With cream cheese. An everything bagel, with a ton of cream cheese and salmon. You owe me one.”

He pauses in his kissing of my hand. “Lia.” His voice comes out thick and warm. “Do you… remember?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stay afloat despite the waves of images pushing down on me.

“No, I don’t think… maybe… yes.” I inhale sharply when he grabs me and pulls me into his lap, hugging me to him despite his wounds. “But I don’t remember if I ate it.”

He lets out a shaky laugh. “I don’t either. But that’s how memory works, isn’t it? You don’t have to remember everything. How long ago was that anyway, two decades ago? What do you remember, baby?”

“I…” I inhale spurts of air, trying to wade through the memories I’m losing myself in. It feels like I am remembering everything. At least, I’m remembering far too much. “I don’t… know. Logan.” I speak his name urgently, latching onto his collar. “What’s happening to me?”

“Hey, hey.” He runs his hand up and down my spine, soothing me. “This is good. Your memory’s coming back, baby.”

I rub the bridge of my nose, trying to focus. “Is that what it is? My memory? Are you sure?”

“Baby.” He presses my face to his, kissing my hair. “I told you I’d fix you. I don’t know how, but… you are fixed. It’s a goddamn miracle. You’re Lia again. I mean, you always were, but… but you really are, now, aren’t you?”

“Logan.” I don’t know what else to say, but I think he hears everything I’m putting into his name. All the love, the relief, the happiness… the fear.

“Don’t be scared,” he hums into my curls. “You’re not going to forget again. I promise you. Those memories are here to stay.”

I pull away abruptly. “How do you know? How can you possibly know?”

The thought that it could all disappear again sends me into a spiral. “Am I going to lose my mind again, Logan? Am I?”

“Shhh.” He takes his phone out from his pocket, awkwardly since he refuses to let go of me. Then he dials a number on speaker phone. “It’s okay, Lia. I’m calling Al Campbell. He’s the head of the science department at Devil. He’ll tell us what’s going on.” His hand leaves my back to stroke the side of my face, and then he hugs me to him and kisses my freckles.

“Hi, Logan,” says a voice as the ringing stops. “What’s up?”

“Hey, man. Listen, I’m calling about that drug. Memoril. You said its effects were permanent. That there was no cure. Didn’t you?”