I didn’t say anything, only took the food from him so he didn’t keep squeezing the bag. I understood—Willow was the artistic star, and Robbie is a genius. I understood the special favors that came their way because they were that: special.

“I know it may seem stupid, but—”

I cut him off. “I get it. I’ve seen it happen time after time with Willow and Robbie.”

People like people who are deemed gifted, which was a good thing, but there were consequences to that too.

“It’s starting. I like getting free shit, but after a while, there are hooks inside you, and you never know when someone’s going to pull one.” He paused at a stoplight and looked over. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” I said it lightly, but I knew how he felt. I saw it tear Willow apart some days. “People give you things and are nice to you, and it’s wonderful at first, but there can be strings attached.”

“Exactly.” He rubbed at his chest. “You start to owe so many people that you lose yourself. It’s a weird feeling, and I feel like a dumbass bitching about it. There’s a reason I’m getting the free shit. I shouldn’t be complaining too much.”

“No.” I turned toward the window, lost in thought. “I get it. I do.”

Was that what Willow had been feeling?

Did she feel pulled in too many directions? Did she feel like she owed too many people? Or did that add to the problem?

“You okay?” Ryan asked.

“What?”

We had started to drive again, but Ryan was skirting looks at me. “Did I lose you just now?”

“Sorry. I . . .”

I needed to talk about her. I knew I did, but the words weren’t there. I could think them. I could feel them, but the idea of saying them aloud filled me with dread.

I shook my head, turning back to the window. “No. I was thinking about something else. I hear you, though. Too many people wanting something from you can make you lose yourself.”

Ryan and I pulled the queen-sized mattress from one of the guest rooms out to the theater room. We’d fallen asleep watching a movie, but the credits had already rolled through and the screen shut itself off, so I didn’t know what woke me.

I didn’t need to go to the bathroom.

There was no chill in the room, but I sat up, the sheet falling to my waist. The mattress was on the carpet so I crawled to the floor before standing. Ryan was still sleeping. He was turned toward me, his arms curled under his pillow, and I watched the way his shoulders and chest moved with each deep breath.

I didn’t want to be one of those girls who devalued themselves, but I didn’t get why he cared. I really didn’t. I was a mess, and yes, he said he understood. He said he’d been there, but I had baggage up to my neck, and I’d only dealt with the tipping point of it. There was so much buried deep inside me, buried so far down that I was half wondering if Willow’s ghost had woken me. That made sense.

Willow and I had shared a Jack-and-Jill bathroom at the old, new house, and there was one of those in this basement. The two guest rooms shared it, but no one had used either of the rooms so far. This was the first night we’d even touched the room, pulling the mattress from the frame.

Maybe that was what had woken me. Awareness had tugged at my subconscious all night. Maybe it had finally rose to the surface. I left the theater room and went to stand in the doorway.

I could smell her.

She’d liked vanilla-scented perfume, and she’d mixed it with a lotion called Pink Promises. It always reminded me of a vanilla rose. I could smell it. The early morning sun wasn’t up yet, so I didn’t know what time it was. My guess was around four or five, maybe even earlier. The moon was still out.

I shouldn’t go into that bathroom. I knew I shouldn’t, but my legs weren’t listening to me.

I was pulled there.

My stomach churned in its place.

I could hear her laughing. It was a whisper on the wind—but there was no wind, and I knew there was no whisper. It was only an empty room and me.

There was light coming from inside the bathroom and spilling out into the guest room.

The laughter faded, and a song took its place. Willow’s favorite song.

I shook my head. Recognizing the song, I knew it wasn’t Willow’s favorite. It had only recently come out, and I’d heard it for the first time this morning. “Barbies” by Pink.

I heard the rest of the song play out in my head.

“Ow!”

I almost fell. That was Willow’s voice, but it wasn’t in my head. It sounded real. It sounded from the bathroom.