[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]
J.T. rested his hands against his knees, staring at nothing for the span of a few heartbeats.
Calm. Find your center. Just breathe.
The absurdity of what he was trying to do struck him, though he tried to shunt it aside. Talking to the dead was part of what he was now—maybe it had always been a part of him that he didn’t realize was there.
“Jameson, what are you doing?”
He flinched at the sound of Ériu’s voice. He could sense her as she manifested next to him, sitting on the ground alongside him. He looked at her sidelong and she gazed back, her spectral gaze as unnerving as it was probing.
“Trying to learn to do what I’m supposed to be able to do,” he muttered. She tilted her head to one side, her brow arching.
“You didn’t ask for help.”
“I didn’t think you could,” he said.
The ghost shrugged. “I could try. A lot of it you learn by doing, though. But why are you out here alone? Someone should be here with you to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m a big boy, Ériu. I’ll be fine without supervision.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, though she smiled faintly. J.T. took a deep breath.
“To be honest, I didn’t want to worry anyone. The longer I can keep all of this pretty quiet, I think the happier everyone will be. Too many people know already.”
They don’t know as much as I know, and even I don’t know everything. I know it’s made people uncomfortable.
Hell, it still makes me uncomfortable.
He felt the chill of her touch, her ghostly fingers resting against his arm. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I know,” he lied. “Are you going to let me get on with this anyway?”
“It’s not as if I could stop you,” she said. “But do you mind if I stay?”
“It’s not like I can stop you.”
“Not yet,” she whispered. “But someday, yes. Someday you will.”
