Won't Let Go by Avery Olive Page B

on the edge of my bed with the full light of the after rain-storm sun streaming through the window lighting him up. He looks so real.
    His head turns slightly at the sound of the door clicking shut. “You were gone—all day,” he says, sounding dejected.
    The whole way home I had tried to come up with best case scenarios on what to do, how best to tell him what I found.
    But the truth is I can’t.
    Not yet.
    I don’t feel I have enough answers. Part of me is sure if I tell him, maybe it will trigger something in his head. He’ll gain back some of the memories, maybe. But if he doesn’t, I don’t know how to explain it all. I just don’t think I can muster up the words.
    After seeing Embry in the hospital, I know I should feel something akin to happiness. He’s not dead. That’s something, isn’t it? Only I don’t. I can’t shake the feeling it’s just not that easy. That letting him die isn’t going to solve the problem. Because anyone who came in contact with Embry—in ghost form—with some digging, could have found out he’s alive. Figured out how to get him off life support and let his soul crossover. Right?
    So that must mean there’s more. There has to be more.
    “I know. I’m sorry, I got caught up.” I tip-toe over to my dresser and pull out dry clothes.
    “You’re wet.” His presence brings a swell of cold air. I pull my arms tight around myself as I slowly turn from the dresser, leaving the clothes behind. Embry’s now a few inches away from me.
    So close.
    I shiver from the combination of wet clothes and icy air. He seems to sense he’s the problem and takes a step back.
    “It’s okay,” I say, searching his eyes. Sandy blond hair masks them. And then he disappears in a flash, a puff of colored-grains that fall to the floor and dissolve, leaving no trace he was here.
    Suddenly from the bathroom, I hear the sound of water running. I stand confused until Embry emerges. “A hot shower will warm you up.” My eyebrows must have quirked in question, because he then adds softly, “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
    My heart leaps in my chest. His concern for my wellbeing is sweet, and the idea of a warm shower is enticing. My jeans have been chaffing with every step, making them super uncomfortable. They’re probably giving me a rash. Even the numbness in my toes is hard to ignore. I doubt they’ll get frostbite, but I’m sure they’d welcome the warmth. The Mustang’s heater just doesn’t heat up like it did in the old days.
    So after a moment’s thought, I nod. “Yeah, okay. That sounds perfect.” I saunter towards the bathroom, just as Embry strolls past me and heads for the closet. Stopping, I say, “You’re not staying?”
    It’s funny how sometimes you want and don’t want something at the same time. Part of me wishes I would beg him to stay, while the other part knows that pretty soon I’ll have to come clean and tell him everything. Even a relationship with a ghost can become complicated.
    From the closet door he says, “I’ll be back later.” There’s the tiniest hint of a smile, not enough to show teeth, but just enough to reveal a slight indentation of dimples. Could he get anymore GQ? And before I get a chance to respond, he slips through the door and vanishes.
    The warmth the shower will provide calls to me. Quickly I make my way into the bathroom, peel off my sticky, skin-tight jeans and shirt. I discard everything onto the floor in a heap and jump into the shower.
    After using every gallon of hot water in the house, I turn off the shower and step out. I pause, water dripping from my hair, beads forming and rolling down my skin. In my rush to get warm, I knew I had forgotten something important—a towel—and yet, neatly folded on the closed lid of the toilet is a towel, and on the edge of the sink, the clothes I had pulled from my dresser. Now I’m not sure if I should be impressed and thankful or creeped out that Embry was in here. Grabbing the