I lower myself onto the seat just across from him, still shaken by the stain and the new idea it just spawned. Hardly able to believe I was so caught up with training and Haven and all the drama she’s created that I hadn’t even thought of it until now.

“What’s happened?” I ask, forcing myself away from those thoughts and back onto him, though vowing to return to them as soon as I can.

Sensing that something terrible has happened and assuming it’s more threats from Haven, when he says, “Lina’s gone.” The words simple, stark, though the meaning is clear.

I look at him, eyes wide, mouth open, but unable to speak and unsure what to say if I could.

“Her van crashed in Guatemala, on the way to the airport. She didn’t make it.”

“Are you…sure?” I ask, immediately regretting the words. It was a dumb thing to say, when it’s so obvious that he is. But that’s what bad news does—it creates unreasonable denial and doubt, prompting a search for hope in places where there clearly is none.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He wipes his eyes with his dry sleeve, gaze clouded with the memory of when he first heard. “Isaw her.” His eyes meet mine. “We had a pact, you know? We promised each other that whoever went first would stop by and tell the other. And the second she appeared before me—” He pauses, his voice tired, hoarse, prompting him to clear his throat and begin again. “Well, the way she just glowed , the way she looked so…radiant…there was no mistaking it. I knew she’d moved on.”

“Did she say anything?” I ask, wondering if she decided to cross the bridge or stay behind in Summerland, since, unlike me, Jude can communicate with spirit in all of its forms.

He nods, his face beginning to lift ever so slightly. “She told me she washome . That’s what she called it, home . Said there was so much to see, so much to explain, and that it’s even better than the Summerland I told her about. And then, before she left, she said she’d be waiting for me when it was my turn—but not to hurry over anytime soon.”

He laughs when he says it—well, as much as one can laugh when they’re consumed by grief. And I swallow hard and gaze down at my knees, tugging on the hem of my dress, straightening the seam until it fully covers them. Remembering the first time I saw Riley in my hospital room, and how it seemed so dreamy and unreal I pretty much convinced myself that I’d somehow imagined it. But then it happened again—and again—and it kept on happening until I was able to convince her to cross the bridge to the other side—which, unfortunately, made her disappear from me forever. Making Jude my only connection to her.

I peer at him again, taking in his bleary aura, hollow gaze, and shaken face—so different from the cute, sexy, laid-back surfer boy I first met. And I can’t help but wonder how long it’ll take for him to return to that, or if he even can. There’s no quick fix for grief. No shortcuts, no easy answers, no way to erase it.

Only time can do that, and even then, just barely. If I’ve learned nothing else, I’ve learned that.

“Then, about an hour later,” he continues, voice so low I have to lean forward to catch it, “I got the call that confirmed it.” He shrugs and leans back in his seat, gazing at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, knowing firsthand just how small those words are in the face of something so big.

“Is there anything I can do?” Doubting there is, but extending the offer anyway.

He shrugs, busying himself with his sleeve, his long dark fingers rolling the wet fabric away from his skin.

“Make no mistake, Ever, my grief is for me,not Lina. She’s fine…happyeven. You should’ve seen her—it was like she was headed off on her most exciting adventure yet.” He leans back in his seat, smoothing his tangle of hair, gathering it all together and holding it briefly, before releasing it again and allowing it to spill down his back. “I’m really going to miss her. Everything just feels so empty without her. She was more a parent to me than my birth parents were. She took me in, fed me, dressed me, but most importantly, she treated me with respect. She taught me that my abilities were nothing to be ashamed of, nothing I should try so hard to deny. She convinced me that what I had was agift —not a curse—and that I shouldn’t let other people’s narrow minds and fears determine how I live, what I do, or how I perceive myself in the world. She actually made me believe that in no way, shape, or form did their uninformed opinions make me a freak.” He looks away, taking in the overflowing bookshelves, the collection of paintings on the wall, before returning to me. “Do you have any idea just how big a deal that was?”

He meets my gaze, holding it for so long I can’t help but look away. His words instantly reminding me of Sabine, and how she took the exact opposite approach of Lina when she chose to blame me.

“You were lucky to know her,” I say, my throat going all hot and tight, until it threatens to close up completely. I know all too well how he’s feeling. My own family’s death is never far from my mind. But I can’t let myself go there—there’s another crisis on the horizon and I need to focus all of my energy on containing it.

“But if you were serious about helping out—” He pauses, waiting for my assurance before continuing on.

“Well, I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind watching the store. I mean, I know you don’t really want to work here anymore, and believe me, I know how angry you’ve been with me lately, and trust me, I don’t think for a minute that any of that will change because of this, but—”