“It’s okay to be afraid,” I said. Now was my moment. I thought carefully, took in a breath, and began. “I spent a really long time, years and years, trying to forget about everything that scared me. And then, my first day here, I sat next to you—right in this chair—and told you a secret from my past.”

“Your ear piercings,” Lee said.

“Yes.” He was leaning toward me, a worried line between his brow. “The thing is,” I continued, “I’m learning that it’s good to think about what scares you. To bring it into the light. Even to hold it in your hands, if you can, and feel how it can’t hurt you anymore. To think of it and say, ‘I am not afraid.’”

Lee watched me so closely. I could tell he understood.

“It takes away its power, to look at it that way.”

“So I should look at my ghost?”

“Yes,” I said. “And other things, too. Here, I’ll show you.” I drew in a breath, felt the racing of my heart. “I was living in a bad place when I saw Lorna. It was a hard time. It was a bad time. It was . . .” I closed my eyes, let out a slow breath. “At first, I was frightened by the sight of her, but the longer I looked, the less frightening she became. And even though everything else was hard, everything else was bad, she was only herself, and I found comfort in her.”

I felt calmer, breathed easily again. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Lee?”

“I think so,” he said. “It’s just . . .”

“What is it, Lee?”

“Nothing,” he said.

I placed my hand on his shoulder and smiled. “You can tell me.”

“It’s just . . . ,” he said. “It was never this way with Samantha.”

“What way?”

“Samantha never told me about her life. We just did lessons.”

My cheeks burned. A vision of Samantha came to me—a confident girl, an easier, better girl than me—sitting with Lee and helping him learn. He probably trusted her enough to make mistakes. But what was he trying to tell me? Was I sharing too much?

I was only trying to help him. I was helping him the best that I could. I took my hand off his shoulder. I shifted my body away. I felt my posture stiffen and I tried to think of something to say but couldn’t.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he said.

Could that be true?

“Oh no,” Lee said. “I think I said it wrong. She never cared that much about me. That’s what I was trying to say.”

I turned my gaze to his—his face upturned, his wide brown eyes confused, concerned. I could have cried with relief. It was all a misunderstanding. I was being too sensitive again.

I exhaled, my body softened. “Oh, Lee,” I said. “It’s fine.”