Betrayal by Lee Nichols Page A

without wanting to …” He shook his head. “I can’t live with you in Echo Point and not sneak into your bedroom every night. I can’t watch you giggling with Natalie or playing marbles with Nicholas or sighing over one of Anatole’s croissants and not want to kiss you. I can’t.”
    â€œI won’t do those things. I’ll—”
    â€œI can’t even think—” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Just standing with you in a train station, looking like you want to cry, and I can’t think.”
    â€œWe can make it work. I promise, we’ll—”
    â€œNo, Emma. It’s impossible.”
    â€œImpossible? We slay ghosts, Bennett.”
    â€œThat’s just it. I’m good; I’m one of the best dispellers there is. Whenever there was a truly nasty ghast, the Knell sent me out.”
    â€œI know how strong you are; I’ve seen you in action. You saved me from Neos once.”
    â€œThat was before I let myself touch you. I’m losing my powers, Emma. I can feel it already. I woke up this morning and … it’s already happening, and we didn’t even— you’re too much. What happens if I’m with you, and I can’t hold myself back? I might lose my ability to dispel, and how would I explain that to my parents—I can’t find my sister’s killer because I’m in love? It’s over, Emma. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”
    The finality in his voice stole my words. I just stood there watching him through tear-blurred eyes. The train pulled in, and the screeching of the brakes echoed the weeping in my head.
    Bennett helped me board, lugging my suitcase into the compartment overhead. He was right; everything he said was true. I had no solution, I had no clue. I didn’t know anything except this: he loved me, and I loved him.
    Bennett said, “Stay safe.”
    I nodded, unable to handle looking at him.
    Then he was gone.
    The train pulled from the station, and I didn’t bother checking outside to see if he was watching. No romantic, lingering looks for us. No blown kisses, no promises to meet again. No nothing.
    I froze all the way back to Echo Point, shivering in my wool coat even though the train was heated, hating the gray November sky and barren New England landscape. Wishing I was back in California—before my parents disappeared, before my best friend, Abby, deserted me, before Bennett had walked back into my life, and before I’d ever heard the word ghostkeeping.
    But I didn’t cry. Not until the train pulled into Boston and I saw Natalie waiting for me at the station, concern etched into her face. Bennett had obviously called and prepared her. I stumbled from the train and fell into her arms, weeping.
    We took a taxi back to Echo Point. Natalie cradled me as I explained everything to her, not caring that the driver could overhear. “He hates me,” I said.
    â€œHe doesn’t hate you, Emma. Just the opposite.”
    â€œIt’s all my fault,” I said. “If I’d just let him go to his own room …”
    â€œEmma, stop blaming yourself. It was inevitable. There’s nothing you could’ve done differently.”
    I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Why doesn’t that help?”
    â€œBecause it’s still a heartache. And nothing makes you want to die more than that.”
    When I woke on Wednesday, a sparky little fire was blazing in the fireplace in my bedroom, no doubt thanks to Nicholas. All my clothes were put away, and Celeste had hung my clean uniform on the wardrobe door. I glanced at the clock on the mantel, and buried my head under the covers.
    I’d taken two days off from school, and was going to take a third. I couldn’t face Harry and Sara and all the other kids who blamed me for Coby’s death. Not this week. Not after losing Bennett. This week was for wallowing in self-pity, eating junk