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up to Jack. “Car wreck.”
    “That’s tough.” His embracing gesture cut through her and his arms ended up against his chest.
    A vaguely recognizable longing pushed her grief aside. Desperation closed her eyes, as if that could inflate the odd, yet comforting sentiment and make it bigger, large enough to wrap her in familiarity. Desire stirred deep within her soul. She longed—no ached—for his touch.
    “So, were your parents your first?” His smooth, consoling voice coaxed out the fine points as easily as rain rolling off a roof.
    “My mom. She came the night they died.” The memory slammed her heart and siphoned air from her lungs. She sat there tongue-tied while her dormant wits renewed themselves. Finally, she gained enough logic to speak. “You know, it’s funny...when I woke up and saw her sitting on the edge of my bed, there were no tell-tale signs. Nothing about her appearance suggested that she’d suffered massive head injuries earlier that day. She was as vibrant and beautiful as ever. I just couldn’t touch her.”
    Izzy remembered that Jack was dead too. Maybe the particulars shouldn’t be explored, out of respect for the departed.
    Damn it . Confession wasn’t good for the soul. Not hers. Not his. Traveling down the road of lousy memories didn’t do anybody any good. Neither did sharing them with Jack.
    How did he do that? She made it a point never to discuss her parents with anyone. Especially a spirit who needed to cross over.
    He smacked his forehead. “They’re why you do this.” He didn’t come right out and say it, but she knew he meant her parents.
    Not entirely. No. Well, maybe at first. Now it was more of a game. She’d developed a competitive touch that heightened with each success. Now she had a reputation to uphold. It was the only thing she could control. If she lost that, it was of her own doing and not some cruel twist of fate.
    She hated failing. It upheld the idea that she’d somehow failed her parents. She could’ve urged them to go on. But instead, she’d chosen to hang them in limbo.
    Years later she realized her selfishness and now it stuck to her like Cling Wrap, a constant and annoying reminder of her faults.
    “Okay. Enough. That’s it.” Izzy bolted for the door.
    That’s what she did when things or people got too close. She ran. It was far from noble, but at least she didn’t have to worry about doing heartbreak time.
    Get a grip , she scolded herself, charging outside.
    The sun had just begun to sink past the shimmering waters of the Pacific horizon. Dusk was her favorite time of day. Normally. But on this particular day, the pink and purple clouds scattered across the evening sky did little to lighten her mood or ease her anxiety.
    She lumbered over the broken and worn pavement, stalking back and forth outside the hangar’s main doorway. Recouping her composure was important and she tried to force everything else out of her mind. She had a job to do. One she couldn’t forget or cast aside. No matter what her dreams were telling her.
    A spirit had never gotten the best of Izzy Miller and she wasn’t about to let Jack Baker be the first.
    She’d show him. By staying outside long enough to get her mojo back, then she’d show him who’s boss.
    She would.
    J ack felt like crawling into a hole and dying. Well, I guess that’s out of the question . He had no qualms about the humor in his sentiment. If not for absurdity he’d go insane.
    The idea that she wouldn’t come back never crossed his mind. He assumed she’d gone outside to collect her thoughts and once she’d done that, she’d return.
    Just when he was about to consider other options, the door creaked open and she stepped inside, red-eyed and frazzled. He began to ache for her all over again, and cursed himself for being the cause of her pain.
    Sadness poured out in her shaky smile. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
    “Why not? I deserve it.” He followed her into the office.
    She paused at