He sighed as he turned the boat, sending them back toward the dock. “I just think we should have gotten paired up with other people.”

She drifted to the deck and hovered in a sitting position, knees hugged in. She looked really young. “Well, it sounds like you’ve already made your decision.”

Happy birthday . . .

Sanjiv couldn’t sleep.

He rolled over. He threw his blanket off. He pulled the blanket half on. He rolled over again. He checked his phone.

Three “happy bday!” notifications from random acquaintances lit up the screen.

12:35 a.m.

It was officially his birthday.

The bedroom was dark, quiet, and cozy, but he knew that wasn’t going to be enough to put him to sleep. Not with this weight hanging over him. He slipped out of bed, put on a hoodie and jeans, and crept downstairs. He took care not to wake his parents, even though he didn’t really have an official curfew. He’d never given them reason to assign one.

He eased his car out onto the empty street and headed north. He didn’t need to look up directions. He’d passed the ghost removal clinic hundreds of times on the way to school, wondering what it would be like the day he finally stopped there. At some point during the drive, Ching silently appeared by his side, floating in the passenger seat. She didn’t ask him where they were going. She didn’t ask him to turn around. Maybe she was too proud or stubborn. Or maybe she agreed with him that the removal was the best idea.

They had always been a weird pair—there was no arguing that. Different cultures, different values. Sanjiv was sick of being pulled in different directions. He was sick of having to explain his ghost, or feeling self-conscious about her. He wanted to be comfortable in his own skin. He wanted everything to be simpler.

As he neared the clinic, his palms grew sweaty and his breath shortened. This was the right decision. He was sure of it. After all, she had just tried to use him for revenge.

But there was something about Ching’s explanation that didn’t make sense to him. It was strange that she was so fixated on Addy’s ghost, who wasn’t even the one who had injured her, when there were so many others she could hold responsible. Or maybe it was the way she talked about the bounty hunter. She didn’t just look angry. She looked sad. And almost . . . Sanjiv didn’t know what heartbreak would look like on Ching’s terrifying face, but he kinda thought it might look like thinned lips, shadowed eyes, and a dark stare. Ching was definitely hiding something. And since he’d spent more time with her than anyone else, alive or dead, he had a pretty good idea of what it was.

Hurts more if they love you first.