Blake agreed to meet at my house at six o'clock. That left the whole day for me to replay a worst-case scenario, which went like this: He'd bring a gun and shoot me after revealing that he'd tried to kill Zeke, but I'd grab it from him like I was a CIA agent, and then he'd be the one to stare down its barrel. Jack would be off to the side, begging me to stop as he tried to swipe the gun from my hand. Unable to get a hold of it, he'd get his trusty butcher knife and use it to slice my throat open just as I released a bullet into Blake's head. Both of us would die and Jack would blink out of existence as he howled in existential agony.

End scene. Rinse. Repeat.

As implausible as my scenario was, I let it play over in my mind all morning and into the afternoon. Implausibility was a staple in my life now, so a double murder along with a ghost vanquishing was not off the table. It could happen, or something else terrible would occur instead. Whatever the case, this would not end well, and nothing could convince me otherwise. Nothing could convince me to quit either, because Jack and I had to know the truth. I wasn't sure if that made me brave or stupid. Unwavering determination was a brand-new experience for me.

I sent Kayla a text, giving her the barebones update, including that I needed her to come over at six to shield me from a bloody end or possibly just an uncomfortable conversation. She had to work today and wasn't sure she would get out of there by six, but she'd try.

That would have to be good enough for me.

Next, Jack and I went over how I'd phrase my potentially offensive conversation with Blake. No accusations—that would only shut him down, or worse, make him hostile. Instead, Jack suggested I use his attraction to me to my advantage.

"I'm not Mata Hari, Jack. I'm not going to seduce him into telling me his secrets."

"That's not what I mean. You need to be with him the way you are with me. Warm, genuine, insult free."

"That last one's going to be tough."

"You can do it. Treat him like a confidant, and if you do, he might just be willing to confide."

I sliced the sandwich I was making for my lunch and plopped it onto a plate. "I begrudgingly admit you could be on to something there."

"Of course, I am. He's me, remember? Whatever works on me will work on him."

"Not so sure about that. He's you minus every ounce of sweetness you possess and you're him minus most of the memories that shaped him into a total tool."

He grimaced. "I think the truth is a lot more nuanced than that. We're a blend of lots of qualities and together we make a whole. Plus, I think I know why I'm here."

"Because supposedly I'm a murderess and you've travelled back in time to torment me in revenge for your death, only instead, you forgot your life and fell in love with the person who would eventually end you?"

"Yes!" he answered, shooting up towards the ceiling. "Well, except I think we can both agree we hope you didn't kill me, and I doubt I would ever want to torture you. But the rest—I think that's the truth."

Heart a flutter, I waited until he'd floated down to eye level. "The rest is true? Like... that you fell in love with me?"

He flashed his crooked grin. "I thought it was obvious, no?"

"I mean, I hoped so." My cheeks heated for the millionth time.

"There's my blushing beauty." He swept his hand near my chin. My eyes widened as I felt the lightest of pressure. He stilled, his eyes as large as mine.

"Jack, did you... did you just touch me?"

The sensation gone, he lowered his hand. "So, there's hope after all. And not just about this development." He waved his hand towards me. "I'm not a run of the mill a ghost. I'm an awesome time travelling ghost!"

"Are you sure ghost is even the right word? Sure, I use it too, but it's for lack of a better description. You're a part of Blake, severed off him. He feels the loss to himself."

"Think about it like this. Time bends in on itself. Every moment can connect to every other moment."

"Have you been studying metaphysics when I'm not at home?"

"So, at the point of death," he continued, ignoring me, "I came into being, the ghost of Blake, and then I touched time, returning right around when you moved into this house. But my existence here is still connected to who I am—or was, and that's Blake. So, I affect him, and he affects me."

"Is this supposed to make sense?"

"It's all I've got. But, that's beside the point anyways. I'm here because we can stop my death."

"No one can stop death."

"You know what I mean. Stop my impending death. That's what you have to figure out how to do tonight with Blake."

"Not to put too much pressure on me or anything. I simply have to take a pseudo-ghosts' advice in order to figure out how to stop a murder I may or may not be involved in. Okay, great."

"You have to at least try."

"That's what I'm doing, isn't it?" That came out angsty. I took a big bite of my sandwich, chewed and swallowed before continuing. "I'm trying. If you'll recall, you were hesitant to even have me delve into this further with Blake, but here I am."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. We're so close. If we can stop Blake from dying, then..." He trailed off. I could imagine the rest of his sentence though, because I knew it was what I'd been thinking as well.

If I ended up saving Blake, then I'd changed the timeline Jack had already lived. And if Blake didn't die, what reason would there be for Jack to exist?

#

After that conversation, my loop switched from double murder to me as the brave hero who would save the handsome undeserving shmuck only to have my true love disintegrate in front of my eyes Thanos-style while reaching towards me wailing, "why, Mazie, why?"

This was not shaping up to be my best day.

"What if I can't save him?" I asked Jack about a half hour before Blake was due to arrive.

"You have to. It's why I'm here with you to begin with. I know it!"

"Maybe. What if this is just a way for the best part of Blake to continue on after he's gone. You grazed my chin today, Jack. If you stay, you'll get better and better at interacting with physical things. It will be just like you're real."

Jack lowered his head. Shit, I'd said the wrong thing. Mazie, what is wrong with you?

"Jack, I didn't mean to say that. You're real. As real as anything in my life. I meant that we can touch. We can be together. Maybe other people will start to be able to see you too."

He kept his head down. "I'm not supposed to exist. I'm an anomaly."

"Don't say that! If you weren't supposed to exist, you wouldn't."

"It shouldn't be like this." He lifted his head, jaw set, eyes glassy. "I want to be Blake again. I want to have my life back. It was stolen from me."

The vehemence of his words made me take a step back. Did he still think I was the one who had done the life stealing?

"Jack, it's going to be all right."

He shook his head. "Sometimes I think this is enough, just being here with you. Watching TV when you're not here, hanging out in the attic. But other times, I realize I'm a prisoner, Mazie. I'm trapped in some sort of time loop. I can't leave. I can't—" He looked out the front window. "He's here."

"What?" I stepped over next to him. Sure enough, Blake had just pulled into the driveway. "He's early. And Kayla will probably be late."

"Just be calm. Remember what we talked about. You have to get him to understand, to empathize."

"And if he goes crazy again from being here with you?"

"Get your answers before that happens."

"God, this is going to be a disaster." I plastered on a smile and met Blake at the door. Be like I am with Jack. Be open, warm, friendly.

"Hey, I'm surprised you wanted me to come over," he said as soon as I opened the door.

"Me too. Come on in." I led him into the living room.

"Your house has such a weird vibe. I can't get over it. Damn, it's giving me goosebumps." Blake ran his hands over his arms, and I gave Jack a knowing look. We had a narrow window before Blake's mental state took a nosedive.

"I'm going to cut to the chase, Blake."

"Is he here?"

My carefully chosen words caught in my throat. "Is who here?"

Blake scanned the room. "You know. The guy who you were talking about. Your imaginary version of me."

"He's not imaginary."

"I never said he was."

"You literally just did." This was worse than I'd thought.

"Okay but that's not what I meant. I meant that only you can see him. He's some spirit form of me but even I can't see him."

"That might change, who knows. And yes, he's standing ten feet away from you looking at you like you're a complete dumbass."

"I am not!" Jack narrowed his eyes at me. "Mazie, what did we talk about?"

"Sorry, sorry. You don't look like a dumbass. You're very attractive."

Jack made a choking sound. "You don't have to let the pendulum swing that far."

"You think I'm attractive?" Blake puffed out his chest.

"Unfortunately, it is a fact, yes. Anyways, we're getting needlessly sidetracked. I have some hard questions to ask you. I'm only asking them because I want to help you, okay? I'm not accusing you of anything."

"That's not a reassuring opener."

I sighed. "Who shot Zeke?"

Blake bristled. "How would I know?"

"Because you were there." I held up my hand, palm facing him. "Don't ask me how I know, I just do. You were there and you know what happened. Now, a lot of people might think you had motive to harm him since he was banging your girlfriend."

"What the hell?" He got up from the couch. Jack stepped over to him.

"Careful, Mazie. I can feel Blake's anger as though it's my own. He doesn't like that you know all of this."

"But it's the truth, isn't it? Like it or not."

Jack nodded, and so did Blake.

"I didn't shoot him!"

"I know. I said people would assume that. It would be easy to have this pinned on you, wouldn't it? So easy, in fact, that you decided to stay quiet about it."

He shifted his weight from leg to leg, like he wanted to tap his foot but couldn't quite muster up the energy. "I don't want to tell you about this."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to hate me."

I forced a smile that hopefully came across as reassuring. "All I want is the truth. I will never hate you for being honest."

He took a deep breath and then sunk back onto the couch. Jack gestured for me to sit next to him.

"You're right. I was there. I'd just found out Dakota was hooking up with Zeke and I was angry. Angry enough to confront him. Angry enough to punch him—I'll admit that, but not angry enough to try to kill him."

"So, you argued with him, and it got physical."

"Yeah. I'm not proud of it, but it happened. We fought. He hit me in the shoulder, and I threw him to the ground. That's when Ethan showed up."

"Ethan." I'd been waiting for that guy to make his grand entrance.

"For all of their firearms training, Ethan still ended up being a lousy shot."

"He was aiming for you, wasn't he?"

Blake nodded and fell silent. I thought that might be the end of his confession, but then Jack picked up where he'd left off. "He was on the ground and I punched him. I remember the way my knuckles burned, like I'd stuck my hand too close to a campfire, and then my right ear buzzed. And there was so much blood. I remember thinking, how can one punch do so much damage? There were maybe four, five seconds of confusion, and then I turned and saw Ethan standing over us. His eyes were wide. He looked terrified and terrifying at the same time.

"'This is your fault,' he told me. And somehow, even though I didn't pull the trigger, I believed it was."

Jack stepped away, turning to stare into the darkness of the world outside my living room window. Blake looked up again. "I punched Zeke, and then—"

"It's okay." I put a hand on his knee. "Jack filled me in on the rest."

"What?"

"After Ethan shot his brother, there was so much blood and you were confused, then Ethan told you 'this is your fault.'"

Blake stared at me, mouth agape. "Holy shit."

"It's not, by the way." I gently squeezed his knee. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't shoot him. Ethan made a horrible choice, one that could have easily gotten you injured or killed too. He's to blame. Only him."

"But if I hadn't gone there. If I hadn't fought with him..."

"It doesn't shine you in the best light, but what you did is not equivalent to attempted murder."

"Someone else is here," Jack announced from his position by the window. "It's too dark. I can't see who it is."

"It's probably Kayla." My phone buzzed. "I bet that's her texting me to tell me she's arrived."

I grabbed my phone so I could respond as I headed for the door.

Busy, be there as soon as I can. You'll never guess who came into

Mazzeria tonight!

Not in the mood to guess right now. Well, if it wasn't her...

The doorbell rang. I peeked through the peephole. My legs began to shake like I was standing on a fault line during a massive earthquake.

"It's them, isn't it?" Blake and Jack said in unison.