I debated calling Brandon. Or maybe calling the police? But to report what? That I'd possibly seen a ghost? I laughed out loud. That'd go over well, especially considering I was clearly under the influence. Somehow it would get leaked. I'd be even more of a laughing stock than I already was, and sooner rather than later, there would be paparazzi hanging in the trees. Of course I did have the picture, but the photo was too unclear to be called any kind of proof. It would be explained away somehow, and I'd end up looking like a fool. Maybe I shouldn't trust myself too much anyway in the condition I was in.
I ate my dinner, sitting outside on the deck, my eyes trained on the woods, but I didn't catch sight of anything again that night. Finally, I stumbled inside, my phone clutched to my chest while I dozed on the couch as if the picture might cease to exist once I closed my eyes.
**********
Stripping off my clothes, I climbed into the hot, bubbling water of the outside Jacuzzi, sighing as my muscles relaxed. It'd been four days since I'd arrived here and I was bored as hell. The bottle of Scotch was gone and I only had enough pills to last another week or so. I would be forced to go cold turkey. What the fuck had I been thinking, agreeing to this? I'd have to take Brandon's Jeep and drive to the airport he'd mentioned and catch a flight. Brandon would be disappointed, but he'd get over it.
The warm water surrounded me, making my limbs feel like heavy jelly, the steam swirling, clouding my senses as my eyes fluttered closed.
"Do you believe in God, Holden?" Ryan's voice choked out.
Did I? I wasn't sure. My parents did. I was raised to believe. My mom was always going on about being a good Christian, but I'd never truly given a lot of thought to God. But what did I say to Ryan? His life was shit. His dad was a sadistic bastard. Of course he wanted to believe there was a purpose to all the pain he constantly experienced, all the fucking scars. Misery overtook me and I swallowed. My throat felt thick. "Yeah, man. Of course."
He nodded, his eyes closed, the bruise on his jaw a sickly, blackish purple, blood still caked on his lip. His dad had done that to him. I fisted my hands on my thighs, angry, helpless.
He gave me the barest glimmer of a smile, more fleeting than a single raindrop falling. "Okay, good because some days I don't think I can do this alone, Holden."
"You're not doing this alone. I'm here," I said. Something burned in my chest.
He smiled again. "I know. You've always been here. You, your parents." The smile slipped and he grimaced slightly.
"Maybe God sent me, you know?" I gave a short chuckle. "Jesus Christ Almighty, that sounds really stupid and self-important, doesn’t it?"
He gave me the first small laugh he'd given in a while. "Yeah, it really does, you arrogant asshole." But his smile increased and he held up his hand, his fingers making a V, the gesture he always did from the stands at the end of a game, letting me know he saw me. I held up my own hand and grinned back at him.
Water filled my mouth and I choked, jerking upward and taking in a lungful of air. My body thrashed in the bubbling water of the hot tub and I looked around wildly, trying to remember where I was. Oh fuck, I must have drifted off. I had been dreaming about Ryan when we were kids, but to fall asleep in a hot tub? Jesus, if the alcohol and drugs didn't kill me, I'd manage it some other way—in a car or drowned in a damn Jacuzzi. My heart was beating a mile a minute.
I sat up and ran my hand through my wet hair, looking out to the trees beyond. There was a girl standing at the edge of the forest. I startled, letting out a small yelp. She startled, too, and turned around. Standing abruptly, I called out, "Wait!"
She hesitated and turned her head back toward me. I grabbed a towel and scrabbled out of the hot tub, almost slipping and head-planting onto the deck. She turned back to the forest and ran. "Wait!" I called again.
I ran down the stairs and across the grassy area in front of the lodge, wrapping the towel around my waist as I ran and holding it in place so it didn't fall.
I entered the woods where she had been and stopped, the light dimmer here, shafts of sunlight filtering through the dense trees. "Hello?" I called, but there was no answer and I could detect no sound.
I looked down at my bare feet and back from where I'd come, spotting the footprints of my own path. I walked back to where I'd entered the trees behind her and looked more closely, but there was only one set of tracks: my own. Frowning, I walked back toward the lodge, looking over my shoulder as I moved away from the woods, a chill moving down my spine. First Ryan, now this. Was I seeing ghosts? Is this what happened when you were so deep into addiction that chemical holes formed in your brain? Or was it the lack of sleep causing me to have visions? Was I cracking up? But no, Ryan had been a memory, just a dream.
"No," I repeated aloud, reassuring myself, "I saw her." Dark hair and a white lace dress. But who the hell wore a white lace dress in the woods? I knew she wasn't part of the paparazzi who normally stalked me. If she was, her purpose would have been to get a photo and the girl's hands had been empty. There'd been no camera. So where had she come from? There was nothing for miles around. And what did I do now? Clearly she didn't want to communicate with me. But if not, why did she keep coming back? It must have been her before. She was watching me. But why? What did she want?