“It’s this life I’m living right now,” Emma started hesitantly, a lump hardening in her throat. “I love being with you. You make me laugh, and you’re the only person I can be myself with—my real self. I’m Sutton to everyone else.”

Ethan glanced up to meet Emma’s gaze. His eyes were huge and imploring, but he waited for her to go on. “I’m pretending to be a dead girl, Ethan,” she said. “And I’m being threatened, and you’re the only person who knows about it. I don’t have my own life right now, which makes this . . . bad timing.” She’d always thought excuses like “bad timing” were made up, occupying the same file as “It’s not you, it’s me.” But this was real. She did have feelings for Ethan, strong ones, but she didn’t know how to be with him when her life was in such upheaval. “And what if we start something and it ends badly? What if we get in a fight? Then I’ll have no one again.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “Maybe, when I’m finally free of all this we can . . .” She trailed off.

Finally, Ethan exhaled loudly. A frown marred his lips. “Are you saying that if we got into a fight, if we broke up, I’d abandon you? Do you really think I’d do that?”

Emma raised her palms to the air. “Breakups can be ugly.” Then she sighed. “I like you so much. But there are so few people I can trust—and you’re the only one I can rely on. I can’t jeopardize that. Not now.”

Ethan turned away, saying nothing. Emma stared at the parked cars across the street. A cleaning service called Clean Machine had stuck flyers under each of the windshields. A convertible cruised by with its radio blasting hip-hop.

“I think we need to keep it as friends,” Emma whispered into the darkness, afraid to look at Ethan head-on. “At least until I can figure out this mess and live my own life again.”

Next to her, Emma felt Ethan’s body slump from the weight of her words. “If you think that’s best,” he said slowly.

“I do,” Emma insisted in the strongest voice she could manage.

Without answering, Ethan rose and reached into his pocket for his car keys. Emma followed behind him to the Honda, feeling like someone had scooped out her insides with a big ladle. Had she just ruined everything?

As she swung into the passenger seat, a crackling sound made her turn. Her eyes scanned the dark road. Then, she spied something moving in the bushes across the street near the bench where they’d been sitting. The cherry-red tip of a lit cigarette glowed in the darkness. It dangled, disembodied, as though held by a ghost.