“Yeah. It did.”

A door opens upstairs and steals my attention. We both look at the entryway to the kitchen. Shit. I forgot Aspen and Chad were still here. “Can you leave her body? That’s probably her sister.”

Willow shakes her head. There’s a new look of unease about her. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Layla will freak out if I leave her body right now. She’ll be in the kitchen when she wakes up and will have no memory of getting down here.”

Aspen appears in the doorway. “Thought I heard you two.” She walks over to Layla—to Willow—and grabs the bag of chips from her. Aspen takes a seat next to Willow. “Chad pissed the bed. I changed the sheets, but I’m pretty sure the mattress will need to be cleaned now.” She looks at Willow. “Your fault for showing him where the liquor was.”

Willow looks at me wide eyed, like she’s scared to say anything to Aspen.

I push my chair back. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow. No big deal.” I look at Willow. “You ready for bed, Layla?”

She nods and starts to stand up, but Aspen grabs her hand and pouts. “No, stay. I never get to see you anymore, and I can’t sleep.”

Willow looks at me and then Aspen and then back to me. She reluctantly sits back down. I don’t want to leave her down here alone, so I sit back down with her. Aspen looks relieved to have the company, but Willow looks afraid to speak—as if Aspen will immediately know that she isn’t Layla right now.

“Did y’all finish off the pizza?” Aspen asks.

“No, it’s still in the fridge.”

She walks to the refrigerator to grab the pizza, and Willow leans her elbows onto the table, gripping her forehead. She mouths, What do I do?

I honestly don’t know. And it’s weird that she’s asking me how to handle this, like I have any experience at all with these things. I try to sidetrack Willow with the only thing I know about her. She likes food. “Want some pizza?”

She pauses for a beat, and then nods with the slightest grin. “I do, actually. Two more pieces. And another soda.”

The entire next few minutes are surreal. I make Willow a plate, and then Aspen sits down next to her. Aspen has been talking nonstop while Willow mostly just eats. I keep Aspen talking, making up almost half of the conversation so Willow doesn’t have to speak much. She’s a little more relaxed than when Aspen first came down here. She’s focusing mostly on the food in front of her.

That lasts until Aspen says, “Did you tell Leeds what happened while I was cooking the pizza?”

I look at Willow, and her eyes grow wide.

“Oh my God,” Aspen says. She starts to laugh while waving her hand from Layla to me. “Tell him, Layla. It was so funny.”

I can see the fear in Willow’s eyes—like we’re about to be caught. I know Willow said she has access to Layla’s memories, but I’m not sure how accurate they are. And if Willow wasn’t in the kitchen while they were cooking pizza, she wouldn’t have that memory.

“She already told me,” I say. I have no idea what Aspen is talking about, but I don’t want to put Willow on the spot. I stand up. “We really need to get some sleep.”

Willow nods and pushes back from the table. “Yeah, I’m exhausted. And still have that damn headache.” She leans down and hugs Aspen. “Good night. Thanks for coming.”

Aspen throws a hand up in the air. “Seriously? I’ve seen you twice since I got married.”

I’m pulling Willow by the arm as we back out of the kitchen. “Why don’t you guys stay longer tomorrow?”

Aspen rolls her eyes. “We can’t. We’re supposed to be in Colorado by tomorrow night, and Chad will make me drive most of it until his hangover wears off.” She waves toward the stairs. “You two go to bed. I’ll clean up my mess.”

Willow doesn’t waste any time. She says good night again and rushes up the stairs. I follow her, but when we’re in the bedroom and I close the door, I have to lean against the door and exhale several times to settle my nerves.

The entire last fifteen minutes with Aspen had me on edge more than the fact that there’s a ghost using my girlfriend’s body.

“That was intense,” she says, pacing the room. “I have to be more careful.”

“They leave in the morning, and then it’s just me and Layla again. You don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

She pauses. “You’re . . . staying?”

I nod. “Yes. We don’t leave until next Wednesday.”

“You aren’t mad at me?”

“For what?”

She waves a hand down the length of her body. “For this. For using Layla.”

Should I be? I don’t know.

I kind of feel sorry for Willow—not mad at her. This goes beyond anything I can even begin to wrap my head around, so my reactions probably aren’t at all adequate for what’s actually happening here.

“I’m not mad. I’d actually like to talk to you again if it doesn’t affect Layla. I don’t want her to find out about you yet. I’m not sure she’ll understand it.”

“Do you understand it?”

I shake my head. “Hell no. I feel like I’m going to wake up tomorrow and laugh at how insane this dream was.”

Willow looks at the bed, and then back at me. “I can’t slip out of her without her being asleep first. I don’t want her to get scared.”

I nod. “It’s fine. I’ll sit in the chair until you’re asleep.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. But I do want to talk to you again. Maybe tomorrow night?”

She nods but doesn’t say anything else. She just crawls into the bed, pulls the covers over herself, and closes her eyes.

I watch her for half an hour. And then, slowly, Layla’s body relaxes.

I saw nothing that would prove Willow is no longer inside her, but I can tell she isn’t. She just changed, ever so slightly, and now Layla looks peacefully asleep. She looks like the same Layla I tucked into this same bed earlier tonight.

I look around the room, knowing Willow can probably still see me. Still hear me. I whisper, “Good night,” and then I crawl into bed with Layla.

I spend the next hour running question after question over in my mind, wondering if Layla will remember any of what happened.

And what does this mean for Willow? What happens when Layla and I leave next week? She’ll just be completely alone again?

I fall asleep feeling more sympathy course through me than fear or guilt.

THE INTERVIEW

It’s been a lot longer than twenty minutes since I last left Layla upstairs. Layla lets me know this by yelling my name over and over and over.

The man pauses the tape recorder. “She sounds angry.”

I nod. “I told her I’d bring her downstairs. She wants to meet you.”

“Layla does?”

“Yes. Is that okay?”

“What was the reason you gave her for my being here?”

“I haven’t really told her much at all yet. She knows something strange is going on with her behavior. I told her you might have answers.”