“She lived in Chicago before, right? Do you think she wants to go back there?”

I stare at Willow, wondering if she knows that’s what Layla wants, and she’s just saying that as a hint. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Willow shakes her head. “I don’t want to dig around in her head anymore. Like I said before, her thoughts are chaotic.”

“What do you mean by chaotic?”

“I’m not sure,” Willow says with a shrug of her shoulders. “You say she’s lost a lot of her memories, but to me, when I’m inside her head, there are too many for me to process. It’s like they all overlap, so it’s hard for me to really sift through them. But honestly, they aren’t my thoughts to sift through, so I mostly just ignore them.”

“That’s probably the right thing to do.”

She laughs half-heartedly. “I think we blurred the line between right and wrong a while ago.”

Neither of us speaks for a moment after she says that. It’s tough, because we both know this is wrong, but I think we’re both hoping the other one doesn’t put a stop to it. We obviously enjoy each other’s company or we wouldn’t be doing this night after night.

Willow looks at me thoughtfully. “What happened the night you and Layla were shot?”

I stand up straighter. Shuffle my weight to my other leg. “You can’t just dig around in her head for that? It’s not really something I like talking about.”

Willow is silent for several seconds. “I could . . . but I want to hear your version.”

I don’t like talking about it. I swore to myself after I recounted every detail to the police that I’d never talk about it again unless Layla asked.

Willow is waiting for me to say something. I open my mouth to respond, just as thunder rolls across the sky and a streak of lightning hits nearby. Willow flinches, and the lights go out.

The kitchen lights didn’t even flicker—they just immediately shut off, along with every other appliance in the house.

The sound of thunder is still rumbling through the house when Willow says, “Leeds?”

She sounds frightened.

I find her in the dark, and she’s no longer sitting on the counter. She’s standing in the middle of the kitchen. I rub my hands down her arms reassuringly. “It’s okay. The power just went out. It’ll probably kick back on in a second.”

Willow steps back and says, “What’s going on?” Her words come out quick and shaky. “Where are we?”

More lightning illuminates the kitchen, and I stare at her between flashes of darkness and bright light. Her eyes are full of fear. I can immediately tell I’m no longer looking at Willow. “Layla?”

“What the fuck is going on?” she says, her voice louder as she takes another step back. She grips the counter next to her, looking wildly around the kitchen. “Why am I in the kitchen?”

I immediately grab Layla and pull her against me. I press my hand against the back of her head. “It’s okay,” I say, trying to come up with an excuse as to why she’s now standing in the middle of the kitchen with no memory as to how we ended up here. “The power went out. It woke us up.”

“Why don’t I remember that? How are we in the kitch—” She stops talking.

She releases a sigh.

I feel her relax, and I can immediately tell Willow has taken back over because she feels different in my arms. She pulls away from my chest.

“I’m sorry,” Willow says. “The lightning startled me and I must have accidentally slipped out of her.” There’s a new concern in her eyes that wasn’t there before. Willow brings her thumb up to her mouth and starts to chew on it. “She’ll remember this tomorrow. She’ll remember waking up down here.”

I don’t like seeing Willow worried just as much as I don’t like seeing Layla worried. “Hey,” I say, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay. I’ll pass it off like she had a nightmare, or she was half-asleep.”

Willow nods, but I can still see the nervous energy in her expression. “Okay.” She covers her face with her hands. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Willow.”

She nods again, but I can tell she doesn’t feel reassured.

Neither do I.

THE INTERVIEW

“Did Layla remember the next day?”

I nod. “Yes. It was the first thing she asked about when she woke up. I played it off like she was half-asleep when the power went out, so I made her go to the kitchen with me, and she didn’t fully wake up until the lightning struck.”

“And she bought that?”

“Yeah. It was an easy sell. Anyone would believe they were in a daze or sleepwalking before their mind would automatically start questioning whether or not they were possessed by a ghost.”

The man agrees with a nod. “Did Willow continue to use her body after that? Even after the slipup?”

I nod, but barely. It’s not something I’m proud of, because no excuse is good enough for what we’ve done. Not even an excuse as worthy as ours.

“Did Layla ever grow to suspect anything?”

“She was concerned about why she was so tired all the time. Willow was using her body at night, so she wasn’t getting as much sleep as she thought she was getting. She’d wake up confused as to why she slept in so late when she was going to bed so early. She started thinking it was related to her head injury.”

“And you didn’t tell her otherwise?”

I inhale and then slowly exhale before answering that question. “No. I went along with it. Made her an appointment to see the neurologist.”

“What did the neurologist tell her?”

“The appointment isn’t until next week.”

“Are you going to take her?”

I shake my head. “No. I can’t now. She’s never going to forgive me for what I’ve done to her these last few days.” I lean forward, pressing my palms to my forehead. “I’ve let this get out of hand and I’m not sure how to turn it around.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Willow to stop when you realized it began to affect Layla?”

“I didn’t want her to stop.”

“Because you were trying to help Willow?”

I wish I could say yes to that, but I shake my head. “We just fell into a routine, I think. It went on for days. Layla would fall asleep at night and Willow would take over. We’d watch movies. I’d cook for her. She’d read a book on the couch while I worked on music. There wasn’t a good reason for us to do it . . . we still weren’t using the time together to search for answers. We just enjoyed each other’s company.”

The man nods. “How does Willow feel about the part she plays in this?”

“She feels terrible. We both do.”

“Yet you continue to do it?”

I’m growing frustrated with his questioning.

“Is it fair to assume this continued because you started to develop feelings for Willow?”

I can’t even say yes out loud. Instead, I just nod.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

We’re supposed to check out in two days and head back to Tennessee. Layla has been cheerful about it.