“Because I can’t find her.”

She watches him, eyes narrowed. “Heard you did something pretty stupid. Stupid enough it landed you in the hospital. Stupid enough you’re lucky to even be here.”

Colin tries to laugh it off. “What’s new, right?”

Maggie clearly doesn’t find it funny. “This is . . . You’ve done some stupid stuff, but this . . .”

He nods, guilt and shame warring with the unrelenting need to find Lucy. “You heard the details, huh?”

“Ain’t nobody around here who didn’t hear.”

“Maggie, you knew about Lucy. When will you tell me how?”

She keeps working, and Colin rounds the bed, taking the other side of the new sheet and fitting it over the mattress.

“Almost died and didn’t learn a damn thing. Fool-headed child,” she mutters.

Colin waits; it’s not exactly like he can argue with her.

“There’s only one way this can end, Colin. You know that, right?”

“I can’t believe that, Maggie. I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t.” She sighs, defeat written in the slump of her shoulders. Maggie straightens, looking out into the hall before closing the wide door. “You’re lucky I don’t kick your skinny butt out of here.”

Colin tastes salt water and the thick, choking tide of sobs, but pushes it down. “Thanks.”

Perched on the edge of the bed, she swallows and says, “I met Alan here when I was nineteen. I wasn’t always the person I should have been, Colin. I was young and stupid and did a lot of stuff I’m not proud of. I was on my own, trying to keep up with nursing school and homework and a full-time job. Right before I started here, a friend noticed I was having a hard time and gave me something to get me through it all.” She pulls a pillowcase into her lap, tugs on a loose thread. “Not long after, I was walking from the dorm to my car, and he was there. He was sweeping the sidewalk, and he looked up, smiled like I was a rainbow after the storm. I saw him like no one else did. Saw those crazy eyes and felt something I’d never felt before. He was mine; you know what I mean?”

Colin nods, knowing exactly the feeling she describes.

“He found me for a reason,” she continues. “I was alone at this big school and needed someone. He was so lonely. No family, no friends, practically invisible to everyone here. He took care of me, saw me stressed and understood why I needed something to get me through the day.”

Colin nods and isn’t even embarrassed to realize he’s crying.

“And when I realized what he was”—she laughs, shaking her head—“when I found out that he’d died? Here? That he haunted this place? I could handle that. But the disappearing? That’s what broke me,” she whispers. “How long has your Lucy been gone?”

“Twenty-four days.”

She pushes a skeptical exhale through her lips, shaking her head. “Twenty-four days you get used to. Twenty-four days you can live with.”

Bile rises in Colin’s throat at the idea of even one more day. “Did he disappear because you were unhappy?” he asks.

“Don’t know why he left. I went to rehab, and he didn’t visit me once. I started using again and he was back. Telling me it was okay, that I needed it. Almost encouraging. First time he was gone for six days. Second time, I didn’t see him for forty-three. And that wasn’t even the longest.”

Colin wants to move somehow, to release this discomfort that’s burrowed into his stomach. He paces to the other side of the room, pushing his hands into his gut, hoping something inside him untangles. “How long?”

“Two years. I had two years with him and then he was gone for two. I’d been clean for a while but going through a rough patch.” Maggie pinches her eyes closed, takes a deep breath. “I took some pills from the infirmary. When I got back to my room, there he was, sitting at the kitchen table like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like I’d gone out for a cup of coffee and he’d been waiting for me to come back. But it’d been too long, Colin. I couldn’t do it.”

“Two years?” Terror wraps a cold fist around his lungs, pulling down, and the sensation of caving in on himself takes over. He would chase Lucy anywhere. He doesn’t know how to function without her anymore. Maggie stays put in front of him, but she weaves, his vision blurry.

“He still felt the memory of the night before. Meanwhile, I’d lived two years—going to school, coming home, looking for him, trying to stay clean. Going to school, coming home, looking for him again. Every day, for two years. And there he was. My life was falling apart and he looked like he’d won the lottery. So, I left him. I wish I’d told him to stay away long before that. I wish I’d told him to leave me alone the first time he came back.”

Colin doesn’t know if he could do that. He doesn’t think he could ever give Lucy up.

He doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until Maggie responds, her voice deep with sadness. “You’ll get there. You’ll find that point. Maybe it will be the first time she’s gone for more than a month. Maybe it will be that time she comes home for an hour and then is gone again for days. Or maybe she’ll get her way and you’ll do her dirty work for her.”

He can hardly process what she’s saying, but forces himself to speak anyway. “Did he disappear for good?”

Her eyes close, and a few tears escape. “I don’t know.”

“But when did you last see him?”

“Pretty soon after he came back. There were stories, always have been. I didn’t figure out till later that the dead around here are bound by the gates. I . . . stopped looking.” She straightens, shaking her head and reaching for a tissue in the front pocket of her scrubs. “I don’t know what takes more strength. Staying through it or letting him go. I don’t know. I just don’t.”