1 HIM

2 MARISA

3 MARISA

4 BRIT

5 MARISA

6 BRIT

7 MARISA

8 HIM

9 MARISA

10 MARISA

11 HIM

12 MARISA

13 MARISA

14 MARISA

15 HIM

16 MARISA

17 RICHARDS

18 MARISA

19 MARISA

20 MARISA

21 BRIT

22 MARISA

23 MARISA

24 HIM

25 MARISA

26 HIM

27 MARISA

28 MARISA

29 BRIT

30 JO-JO

31 MARISA

32 MARISA

33 MARISA

34 RICHARDS

35 JO-JO

36 HIM

37 JACK

38 MARISA

39 MARISA

40 BRIT

41 MARISA

42 HIM

43 JO-JO

44 MARISA

45 HIM

46 RICHARDS

47 MARISA

48 BRIT

49 MARISA

50 MARISA

51 MARISA

52 MARISA

53 MARISA

54 BRIT

EPILOGUE MARISA

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

START READING

Truth is the ultimate power.

When the truth comes around,

all the lies have to run and hide.

—Ice Cube

1 HIM

1

HIM

NOW

Friday, January 7, 2022

Richmond, Virginia

The dead were always watching. And they did speak to us, though we rarely noticed.

Normally, the dead didn’t bother me, but the night was cold, dark, and raining, and I was anxious as I gripped a coiled art show flyer and got out of my car. A light drizzle fell, and an uneasiness had piggybacked onto my bones with the cold. I was tempted to go home and ignore you. Sane men don’t chase the dead.

But when it comes to you, I’m not reasonable—never have been. So I returned to J.J.’s Pub, a corner, brick building with tall display windows and crimson-red front doors. Inside the vestibule, I unrolled the handbill, coiled tighter than a clock spring, and confirmed that I’d not lost my mind. You were still staring, smiling.

Your red hair swooped around your shoulders like a curtain and framed a face as pale as ivory. Once you had reminded me of an Irish sprite, plucked straight out of Dublin, but now I saw you were Persephone, back from the underworld.

Your gaze held me, reached out, and the longer I studied the ironic humor swimming in those sapphire eyes, the more I remembered our intimate history and shared losses.

A rational mind wouldn’t be lured by the dead or revisit a dangerous past. Turn, leave, and slam the door shut on yesterday.

But this pull between us transcends life and death. And this time I was not going to repeat old mistakes. The past doesn’t have to equal the future. Eyes forward.

I pushed through the bar’s doors, chased in by cold air that lingered at my heels, and shook off raindrops dripping from my jacket. The sounds of piped jazz horns mingled with warmth, laughter, and the smells of beer and french fries. I wasn’t here for the art, food, ambience, or company. Just for you. I needed to see if you were really you. Honestly, I hoped you weren’t, that it was a mistake. I’d spent too many years imagining your face, your smile, the way your eyes closed forever so long ago. I was afraid seeing a knockoff version would only taint my memories. I hoped whoever you were, you’d be ugly, fat, and easy to forget.