“We always focus on me. You can”—he pauses, swallowing hard—“you can talk to me about this. It’s me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Malcolm doesn’t need to know the specifics. What she has with Fox is both real and temporary. When they leave here, their pretend relationship stays behind. That’s what they agreed on.

“Sometimes when I try to talk to you, you shut me out, which I don’t get because that’s not how we work. That’s not who we are. I just . . . I want you to be happy,” Malcolm says, licking his lips. “That’s what’s most important. And if . . . I, uh, I need a second to think. I’ll be right back.”

Joy doesn’t go after him. She isn’t sure her legs will work even if she wants them to. Her mind is whirring at full capacity, wheezing like a laptop about to blue screen itself to death because she cannot process what just happened.

Did he . . . ? Was that . . . ?

And why . . . ? Why now . . . ? She finally met . . .

“Hey.” Fox touches her back, face close to hers. “You look like you’re not okay.”

“I’m fine,” she lies, grabbing him and holding on for dear life. “Everything is fine.”

Something very old, and very hurt, begins to stutter back to life inside of Joy.

Malcolm announces that he’s canceling the rest of the day.

For as long as Joy’s known him, he’s never canceled plans before. Ever. He’s more reliable than the post office and they boast neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night can stop them.

The car ride back to the cabin is dead silent. No one says anything, no music plays. Malcolm grips the wheel like he took some Incredible Hulk pills and he’s trying to hold back his rage. When they arrive, everyone gets out of the car except for him. They watch as he puts the car in reverse, backs out of the driveway, and leaves with zero warning.

“Where is he going?” Summer asks.

Fox says, “Not to be that person, but do either of you have keys to get inside? Because I don’t.”

Summer gasps. “Oh no.”

Oh, Malcolm. “I do. It’s fine.” Joy retrieves them from her purse. “I have the spare keys.” Light pours in from the curtainless windows, but all the small interior lights are off. The noticeable hum of electricity is also missing.

“Is the power out?” Summer clicks a light switch repeatedly, but nothing happens. “I can’t believe the ghosts are upset too right now.”

Fox says, “I’ll go down. I think Malcolm said the circuit breaker is in the basement.”

“I’ll go with you,” Summer volunteers.