Chapter 13: The Ghost Between Us
Monday came like a storm held behind glass.
Emma stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to convince herself she looked normal. Not nervous. Not guilty. Not terrified.
She'd tried four different tops, two jackets, and cried twice before settling on a simple black hoodie and jeans. Nothing flashy. Nothing that said "I stole your boyfriend."
Because Maya was back. And the hallway whispers were already starting.
She heard them before she even made it past her locker.
"Isn't that the girl who—"
"Yeah, with Jake—"
"And Maya used to be—"
"Messy…"
Emma pushed through, head down. Jake was already waiting by her locker.
He took one look at her and slipped his fingers between hers. Warm. Steady. Unshaken.
"We've got this," he said softly.
But his eyes were scanning the hallway.
Searching.
Waiting.
---
They saw her third period.
Maya walked into AP Literature like a secret that refused to stay buried. Her hair was longer, curled in soft waves, her outfit casual but calculated—like she knew people would stare and wanted them to know she didn't care.
But her eyes… her eyes locked on Emma.
Emma's stomach dropped.
Maya didn't flinch. She walked to the empty seat two rows behind Jake and sat, calm as a bomb ticking under the floor.
Jake didn't turn around.
Emma didn't breathe.
Class passed like a blur. Poe and metaphor and dead hearts beneath floorboards.
No one said a word.
But the tension?
It screamed.
---
By lunch, it was impossible to avoid.
Emma sat with Alina and a few others under the tree behind the art wing, half-listening to a conversation about prom themes, trying not to look toward the cafeteria door.
She failed.
Maya walked out with a tray, alone. But people moved around her like she carried a force field.
She sat under the gazebo, pulled out a book, and started to read.
Jake wasn't at lunch. Said he needed "air."
Emma didn't blame him.
But still… it made her ache.
Alina leaned in. "She's been watching you. And him."
Emma nodded. "I know."
"She hasn't made a move yet."
Emma's lips tightened. "She will."
---
Jake showed up at her house that evening.
Emma's parents were out, the house quiet. They sat on her bed, their backs against the headboard, legs tangled.
"She's in two of my classes," Jake said finally. "Lit and Environmental Science."
Emma stared at the ceiling. "Did she talk to you?"
"No. But I could feel it. Like she wanted to."
Emma exhaled. "Do you want to talk to her?"
Jake paused. "I don't know."
That answer hurt more than she expected.
He looked at her. "Would you hate me if I did?"
She hesitated. "No. But I'd be scared."
"Of what?"
"That you'd remember what it was like. With her. Before me."
Jake turned, cupped her face in his hand. "I remember what it was like after her. When I felt nothing. And then you walked in like chaos and color and everything I didn't know I needed."
Emma closed her eyes.
He kissed her.
But somewhere, beneath the warmth, a crack deepened.
---
On Wednesday, it happened.
Emma had just finished her last class when she saw them—Jake and Maya—talking by the east stairs.
Not arguing.
Not yelling.
Just talking.
She froze.
Maya had her arms crossed, but her posture was relaxed. Jake was leaning slightly forward, nodding. He even smiled once.
Emma's heart dropped like a stone in a well.
She didn't approach them. She couldn't.
Instead, she turned and walked to the bathroom. Locked herself in a stall. And cried quietly, knees against her chest.
She'd said she was okay if they talked.
But watching it?
That was a different story.
---
Jake came to her house that night.
Emma didn't speak for a full five minutes.
Jake sat on the floor of her room, legs stretched out, fiddling with a shoelace like he was unraveling a truth he didn't know how to explain.
Finally, he said, "I talked to her."
Emma said nothing.
"She apologized. For everything. For what happened, for not letting go, for the things she texted you."
Emma looked at him then. "And?"
"She said she doesn't want to be stuck in the past. That she hopes we're happy."
Emma's voice was flat. "That's it?"
Jake nodded. "She didn't ask for anything. Didn't try anything. She just… wanted closure."
Emma's throat burned. "And you?"
Jake met her gaze. "I realized I already had mine."
Emma blinked.
Jake stood, walked to her, and pulled her up into his arms.
"I don't want to go backward," he said. "Not with her. Not with anyone. I want this. Messy, painful, real. I want us."
Emma buried her face in his chest and let herself believe it.
Just for tonight.
---
Thursday brought an unexpected text.
From Maya.
Maya: "I know you saw us. I just wanted to say… I meant it. I'm not here to ruin anything. I just needed peace."
Emma stared at the message.
And for the first time since Maya's return… she believed her.
She replied:
Emma: "Thank you. I hope you find it."
---
The weekend came soft and slow.
Jake took Emma to the lake outside town, just the two of them. No school. No eyes. No pasts.
They sat on the dock with bare feet in the water.
Jake strummed his guitar, quietly humming a tune he hadn't shared yet.
Emma leaned on his shoulder, eyes closed.
"What if we just stayed here forever?" she murmured.
Jake chuckled. "You and me. Fishing off a dock. Living on instant noodles and stolen WiFi?"
Emma smiled. "Sounds perfect."
He kissed her forehead. "You've changed me, you know."
Emma opened her eyes. "How?"
"I used to think love was supposed to be easy. Clean. But you taught me… it's the opposite. It's messy. It's scary. But when it's real, it's worth every scar."
Emma reached for his hand.
Held it tight.
And in that moment, surrounded by silence and sun and still water, she knew:
This love — this imperfect, beautiful, real love — was worth everything.
Even the ghosts.