Emma had fallen into a numb passing of time, waking, following her routines, working, more routines, sleep. She no longer left the house, having her groceries delivered and dropped at the door. There was no baking, and meals were kept simple. No fires burned in the fireplaces, and the remaining logs were left untouched. She tucked all the speakers away in the cabinets of the sideboard Wyatt had repurposed as an entertainment stand and put the projector in there as well. Movies and music held no joy for her anymore.

Emma took down each of Wyatt's photos and packed up his things, putting it all in the darkroom. She couldn't even bear to see his beloved space, so she hung a sheet over the door to pretend it didn't exist. The worst was anything that made her body feel good. An orgasm now made her weep uncontrollably, so she took the basket of toys from under the bed and stored it with everything else. She never wanted to see another vibrator, pasta crimper, or eye mask again. If it reminded her of him, she did her best to ignore it, but the problem was the entire house held memories.

Only her hummingbird necklace remained. That she wore everyday as a reminder to never fall in love again. Everyone leaves, and feelings bring nothing but pain.

It was the first week of March, and Emma hadn't talked to anyone other than herself for over two weeks. If she wasn't half crazy before, she was well on her way now, which is why her scream when someone knocked at the door wasn't entirely surprising. What did shock her was hearing someone yell 'police' while trying to kick said door down. She immediately ran over and opened it before the wood splintered under Detective Lacey's foot only to have the woman spill into her living room.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked completely perplexed.

"You screamed," she grunted, pushing up from the floor.

"Your knock startled me."

"Well, your silence startled me. What the hell? Where have you been? You haven't answered any of my texts."

"There weren't any answers," Emma mumbled, turning to walk back to the kitchen.

Cam shut the door and followed her in, clearly seeing not everything was right with Emma. "What happened? Did someone hurt you? Threaten you?"

"Ripped my heart out, tore it in half, and left it bleeding on the kitchen floor," Emma rambled, putting the tea kettle on the stove. "Tea?"

"This is about a break-up? Shit, I'm not great at those."

Emma snorted. "Apparently, neither am I."

"Well, I know tea won't help. You got anything stronger?"

"I don't really drink."

"No time like the present," Cam said, texting someone on her phone.

Twenty minutes later another knock came at the door.

"Now, who's here?" Emma grumbled from the couch.

"Reinforcements," Cam said, racing for the door. She was thrilled when she saw the headlights through the front windows. Smalltalk was not Cam's forte, but Jessie, her best friend, always knew what to do when it came to matters of the heart. She was also the best bar therapist in Shelter Cove, so what food and booze didn't cure, her words typically could. "Thank you for coming."

"I got here as fast as I could," she grinned. "Hi, I'm Jessie, resident heartbreak specialist and junk food connoisseur."

"Hi, I'm Emma." That was about all she could muster. After weeks of silence, two women in her house felt like a cyclone.

"You got it bad. Why don't we start with ice cream. I got four different flavors, chocolate, vanilla, peanut butter brownie, and strawberry shortcake."

"Peanut butter brownie," Emma murmured, liking the newcomer a little more.

"Solid choice," Jessie said, heading straight for the kitchen like she had been here a dozen times before. "Spoons?"

Emma pointed and watched as Jessie handed the strawberry to Cam without even asking and took the chocolate for herself. The woman was a ball of energy with jet black curls that were in direct defiance of the hair tie she was using to try and keep them off her face. While she wasn't society's definition of beautiful, Emma found her stunning. Jessie was all dark skin and abundant curves, with eyes like two glowing orbs of amber. She looked like she could kick your ass and then might try to cuddle you after. Emma decided she really liked that.

They all went back to the living room, and she curled up in the gray armchair that had been Wyatt's favorite while the two ladies took the sofa.

"So, what happened?" Jessie asked with a sympathetic smile.

"I fell in love, overstepped, lied... repeatedly, dug into his personal life, he found out and left."

"Got that crazed stalker girl energy?" Cam asked, scrunching her nose. "I mean, I know you're curious, but I didn't expect that."

"Me either," Emma sighed. "Everything I did was meant to help him. I only lied because it seemed telling him would be painful if there was nothing to really tell, you know?"

"Not exactly," Jessie said with an understandably confused look on her face. "Why don't you start from the beginning."

"I'll need something more than peanut butter fudge to do that."

"Got you covered. Vodka, gin, rum, or whiskey?"

"You brought all four?" Cam asked.

"I was at the bar when you called," Jessie shrugged with a smile.

"What bar?" Emma asked.

"I own Dockside. It was my night off, but I was there doing inventory, so we have a selection."

"I've heard about your bar. Unfortunately, the person who invited me was not someone I wanted to go with."

"Oh, yeah? Who was that?"

"Taylor Scott."

Jessie and Cam both cringed. "Good idea. Better to come in with Cam or just come to see me."

As Jessie made them all gin gimlets, Emma told the full story of the night Taylor came bursting into her house. She left out the part about Wyatt actually being here to help, but it was enough to have them both laughing and grimacing. Cam tried to convince Emma to go down to the station and file a complaint. She even offered to backdate it based on Taylor being a slimeball, but Emma just laughed off Cam's clear dislike of the guy.

It was as if time began to start once more, the world spinning, and life returning while the three of them talked, and tongues became looser with each consecutive drink. They all discussed men, sex, jobs, and Jessie's version of twenty questions where they each shared pieces of their lives and stories to get to know each other in both personal and humorous ways.

It wasn't until Jessie asked about the well-known ghost who haunted this house that the conversation stalled. Emma was definitely tipsy enough to be loose-lipped. She had told them all about Todd and skated around her NDA with enough information for them to fill in the gaps rather easily. Could she tell them about a ghost?

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Emma asked with the slightest hope.

"I do," Jessie said quickly.

"I wouldn't say ghosts, but I've seen things in my job that I can't explain."

If they thought she was crazy, they could just leave. It's not like they were real friends or anything. One night didn't constitute friendship, did it? She had lost everyone else, two more didn't matter, but why did it hurt when she thought they might leave.

"You're going to think I'm insane."

"Aren't we all?" Jessie shrugged.

"I didn't believe in ghosts. If I couldn't see it, touch it, hear it, smell it, it didn't exist... until I moved here."

Emma started from the beginning, her conversations with Miranda Higgins, moving in and sleeping on the floor for weeks while he watched, that first haunted shopping spree, their trip to the hardware store, all the repairs, his part in Taylor's visit, everything. When she saw Cam's disbelief clearly in her eyes, Emma raced to her office and pulled the tablet out of her desk. Every word he had ever spoken to her was there, and she handed it over with tears pouring down her cheeks.

While the girls read, she reheated the giant container of bacon and cheese fries that Jessie had brought from the bar along with about two dozen wings and brought it all back out, setting it on the coffee table. It was well past midnight now, but Emma hadn't felt this alive since Wyatt had left her here alone. She prayed they didn't think she was totally crazy and bolt. Surely the texts proved something was going on.

"Holy shit," Jessie said, looking up at her when she set the food down. "He really was here."

"He was. Taylor even has video footage of us taking out the boat on New Year's Eve. I guess since Wyatt's death, he put a camera in the boathouse. Smart, I suppose. He told me Wyatt could take it out whenever he wanted. He knows his spirit is still here... or was."

"Christ," Cam whispered, looking up. "You left out the part about him talking dirty and being sexy as hell."

"Oh, damn," Emma said, turning bright red. "I should have censored that."

"Hell no! Now, I'm in love with Wyatt Scott," Jessie laughed.

"I might be as well," Cam said, still looking stunned. "To be a fly on the wall for some of those conversations. I really want to know your responses to about half of that. And your ex sounds like a real douche waffle."

"That about sums him up. Wyatt hated him," Emma sighed.

"Honestly, I'm not sure that helps your case," Jessie said, cocking her head. "This man is way too good to be true. Fixes everything, gives you mind blowing sex, is bossy yet totally sweet, hates your ex, loves your cooking, and wants you to put on weight so he can enjoy your body even more. Seriously, where can I get one of these?"

Emma laughed. "You're not wrong, but we didn't necessarily have sex. We couldn't touch each other."

"I'm now very confused," Cam stated flatly. "Is that why he was always telling you to do things to yourself?"

"Geez, I really should have selected what you could read," Emma muttered.

"But what about the sex toys? And that massager that I can guarantee wasn't for your back?" Jessie asked with a whine.

"He can use objects to touch people," she explained.

"Thank fuck he's one of the good guys. Can you imagine a ghost who could shoot people? He could single-handedly wipe out the human race."

"There seems to be some strange set of rules in the afterlife. He can't steal, so I have to wonder if he can even hurt people," Emma shrugged.

"That makes sense," Jessie said, pursing her lips in thought.

"So this was how you knew so much about the murder," Cam mused.

"Actually, most of that really was digging. But it's how I knew about the gambling debt, and Wyatt had described his death before I got the report from you. He's why I wanted answers, why I lied. I didn't want to hurt him if I couldn't figure it out."

"What did he tell you?" Cam asked eagerly, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

"All he knows is that it was a tall man with dark hair. It's exactly what the report said. He was hit in the back of the head, after untying the boat and pulling up the fenders, slammed into the swim platform on his way down which flipped him and he sunk while looking up. His mind was still active, but he couldn't get his body to respond.

"Wyatt was alive, and someone watched him drown. That's why I wanted answers. Because someone killed the man I love and got away with it."

"My God, that's gruesome and so romantic," Jessie gasped.

"So why have you locked yourself in your house?" Cam asked.

"He's gone. Looking for those answers drove him away. You read that last message. He told me to stop digging."

"And you're going to listen?" Cam snorted. "The man left. You can at least finish what you started. What else do you have to lose?"

"Maybe solving this will let his spirit find peace... if that's what you want," Jessie said carefully.

"It's not about me. I'm not sure if that's what he wants. We talked about it, and Wyatt thinks he's stuck here until justice is served, but I thought he was happy. Now that he's left his house... and me, well, I'm not sure that's still the case."

"Then I say we find out who killed him," Cam said, her lips in a thin line. "If he's left to wander the world alone with no home and no one to connect with, this could be the last way to help him."

"Really? You don't think I'm nuts?"

"Oh, you're totally cray-cray, but I like it," she teased.

"Unless Taylor told you, there's no way you could have known exactly what happened in my bar the night before Wyatt was killed. I was there, and every word you said was true. I served them a whole bottle, caught snippets of that conversation, and called the designated drivers. I believe you," Jessie nodded.

Emma hadn't thought she could ever feel good again, but right now, her face had a huge smile. "Wait till you two hear this," she said, handing over the phone recording of her last conversation with Jigger.

"That motherfucker," Cam snarled. "I knew he was lying."

"That he was, but I just don't know if Mike did it. Something feels a little soft around the edges there."

"Who do you think did it?" Jessie asked with an odd edge of hesitancy and hope.

"Honestly, Taylor. That guy is just... wrong."

"Can't fault you there, but he was literally in meetings with clients when it happened. And now that you can confirm the time of death, it only makes it more solid for him," Cam sighed.

"In meetings with guys like Jigger? Clients who might cover for him because they're invested with him? He could have gone out his office window, made it to the marina, killed Wyatt, and gone straight back before his secretary even realized his absence. She let me in when the office was empty. It's not like she's paying a ton of attention."

"What if they were both in on it?" Jessie asked. "I must have seen Wyatt in Dockside drinking with Taylor as often as he did with Mike, and quite a few times it was all three of them. They could have done it together somehow."

"I hadn't considered that. There was nothing to point to more than one murderer," Cam contemplated.

"The names of the clients who provided Taylor's alibi were redacted. Could you dig further into who they were?" Emma asked Cam.

"I could, off the clock. We looked into them but not very deep. They were typical businessmen from Seattle."

"Money is a huge motivator. If they've got investments with Taylor or have him as the trustee on anything, like he tried to convince me, they might cover him to save their own assets."

"Very true. Like I said, you're in the wrong profession."

They moved their gathering to the den, and Emma brought out the folder she had buried in the back of her upstairs closet. With Cam's eye as a detective, she started separating all the information Emma had collected, including copies she had made from different yearbook pictures of Taylor, Wyatt, Mike, and Lisa. They went round and round with theories until Jessie fell asleep, and Emma covered her with one of the many soft throws she kept around the house.

She and Cam continued to hash out ideas, using Jessie's take on people and motives. The theory of them all working together was starting to make more sense. What they couldn't figure out was if Lisa knew anything about it, but it sure would explain why she would willingly give Taylor half of Wyatt's life insurance policy. Emma had a lot more insight into Lisa than Cam did, and handing over a large amount of cash was unlikely to be from the goodness of her heart. The woman hadn't been a huge point of interest seeing as she was three hours away when it happened, but that didn't mean she had been left in the dark.

It was almost dawn when Emma and Cam had also fallen asleep, and they both woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. A part of Emma thought Wyatt had returned, and she bolted upright, making her head spin.

"Smells like Jessie is in the kitchen," Cam said groggily, stretching out her long body. "Fuck, I haven't slept on a floor in a while."

'Not that long ago for me,' Emma thought. She too had a few kinks to work out and slipped upstairs to use the bathroom so Cam could use the one across from the den. Her hair was now past her shoulders, and she had to brush out the many tangles, putting it in a quick Dutch braid. After washing her face and throwing on a fresh shirt, she headed back down to the kitchen.

"You figured out the espresso machine," she grinned, accepting the mug from Jessie.

"Yeah, I've got one pretty similar at the bar. Wasn't all too hard. Not sure what you like, so that's just a double espresso."

"Thank you. I'll just add some hot water and be good to go."

"So where'd you two leave off last night?" she asked.

"I'm going to dig into the two guys who provided an alibi for Taylor," Cam said, coming in the kitchen.

"And I'm going to start by seeing how long it takes me to walk the woods from Taylor's office to the marina. We need a better time frame on that."

"Girl, be careful. Midday and carry a weapon or something," Jessie cautioned.

"Cam gave me a taser. It's been in my purse ever since."

"Good," Cam grunted. "Did Wyatt leave you that gun? What I read sounded like you were a good shot, and you should be armed out here by yourself. Just in case anyone else comes barging in."

"Like a detective trying to kick my door down?" Emma teased, sipping her coffee.

"Hey, I announced myself," Cam smirked.

"It sounded like you and Wyatt were going to get a dog," Jessie said carefully. "Why don't you do that? Not just for a little protection. They are great companions, too. My cat, Salem, is the only reason my house is a home."

"Unless you got mice, a cat is useless. But I agree. You should get a dog, a big one, with big teeth."

"I'm offended on Salem's behalf," Jessie snapped, hands landing on her hips.

"Doesn't make my words less true. Unless the person is superstitious, your little black kitty isn't going to do jack shit."

"You have no idea what my black kitty can do."

"I thought you waxed that shit?"

"Please tell me we are no longer talking about a cat?" Emma pleaded with a quirk to her lips.

"Get a dog," Cam stated, dumping three heaping spoons of sugar into her coffee mug.

"I'll add it to my list," Emma snarked, but the idea held merit. Nothing wrong with popping into the shelter... just to take a look.

"Well, I'm pretty good with Skip over at Crossbones. I can ask if he remembers anything from the fishermen around that time. Those boys like to drink, and they like to talk. I still can't believe you went there for weeks just to get close to Jigger," Jessie grimaced, bringing them back to their plans.

"Me either," Emma winced. "Can I help with anything?"

"It's about ready if you want to get plates to the table."

An hour later all three of them were walking out the front door. Emma couldn't stop the huge smile when Jessie suggested they all meet up at Dockside on Friday. That would give them three days to see if anything else came up. It was also an invite to hang out with her new friends.

⚞❖⚟

Emma's first stop of the day was the little salon out by the supermarket. Seemed haircuts really were the initial step to making life changes. When Momma died, she took it from her lower back up to her bra strap, and after her divorce, she had gotten a long bob just above her shoulders. It had been a huge fight with Todd every time she wanted to cut her hair, and it had always been a fight with her momma as well. Why everyone demanded she wear it long was a mystery. Emma enjoyed the feeling of it swishing across the tops of her shoulders, preferred the low maintenance of just letting it hang, and truly loved how she looked when it framed her neck and face.

Once the extra inch or so was taken off, she decided it was the perfect time to visit the animal shelter. Emma wasn't worried about protection, but Jessie's suggestion for companionship had struck a chord deep in her chest. People leave, but a dog would stay for the rest of their life. If she could find the right dog, maybe it would encourage her to get out of the house again. She missed the peace of the wilderness and the feeling in her body after a long hike, but she wasn't ready to go alone. Perhaps having a dog for company would mitigate the oppressive loneliness that grew the second she set foot outside her front door.

"Hi! Welcome to Paws for Life. How can I help you?" an incredibly perky redhead asked from behind a desk covered in loose papers, dog biscuits, and a few too many coffee mugs.

"Um, hi. I... well I was thinking I might like to get a dog," Emma stammered, her anxiety spiking from the chaos around her. Barks, yips, whines, and howls bounced around the concrete building, making her second guess this idea completely.

"Have you ever had a dog?" the girl asked brightly.

"Well, um no. I think maybe this might have been a bad idea. Sorry," she said, turning on her heal and rushing back out to the parking lot.

"Hold up, please. Wait a minute," the girl called out, chasing after her. "Just answer one thing. Why did you want a dog?"

"I um, I live alone, and well, the alone part is recent. Someone told me they make great companions, but I think I might be too um, well, I like routine and quiet. I work at home, but I like to run or hike a lot really. Sorry, I didn't think this through. I'm not sure I would be much fun for a dog."

"It all depends on the dog, and I've got the perfect one," she smiled softly.

"You do?"

"I think so. Why don't you stay here, and I'll bring him out. If it doesn't feel right, then you can go on your way."

"Okay, thank you."

"Sure. My name's Katie, by the way."

"Emma."

A few minutes later, Katie walked out with an enormous dog who seemed to study Emma as intently as she was him. He seemed proud, noble even, with longish hair that was fluffier around his neck and tail. His legs and abdomen were a reddish tan with creamy tips, but his upper body had a black streak that engulfed his entire head save for two golden patches right above his eyes. That's where her attention stayed. Cinnamon eyes, rich brown with flecks of red and a sadness that mirrored her own. This dog had experienced loss.

"Meet River. He's a three-year-old Shiloh shepherd, weighed one-twenty-two at his last check-up, and thrives on routine, calm atmospheres, and needs to feel useful. He was trained as a medical service dog from birth and spent the last eighteen months caring for an elderly man with severe Parkinson's. They developed a powerful bond, but the man passed about two months ago.

"River has been mourning. He's not interested in toys, other dogs, or playing, and he's too serious for kids or a casual adoption. He's trained to help with walking, balance, fetching specific items, and even getting help if needed. But his skills also make him difficult for the standard household. River can open and close doors, turn lights on and off, get in the refrigerator, and because he's trained to be attentive, he's a bit clingy," she finished with a shrug.

Emma's eyes hadn't left River's the entire time Katie talked. It sounded crazy, but she understood this dog. She understood being trained to hold on, to live for someone else in hopes that they keep you. They become your world, your purpose, and without them, everything else seems dull.

"He's perfect," she whispered.

Katie smiled, walking over and placing the leash in Emma's hand. "Let me go get the paperwork. I think the two of you will do better out here." The redhead knew how to read people and animals it seemed.

"Hey, River," Emma said softly, dropping to one knee. She held her hand out, palm down for him to sniff before gently stroking up his broad jaw to scratch behind his ear. "I'm sorry for your loss. It wasn't your fault though. You did everything you could. I know you did. Would you like a new home with me? Maybe we can help each other start over."

River leaned forward and rested his chin on Emma's shoulder. It was as if he understood her words, and she took this as his acceptance. Loosely wrapping her arm around his neck, she stroked down his back. His fur was soft and thick, and she knew regular grooming was about to become part of her new routine.

A half hour later, Emma was pulling out of the parking lot with a dog that weighed as much as she did in the backseat of her RAV. Katie said she would stop by the house in the next week or so to make sure everything was going well, and she gave Emma a very long list of things to go buy at the pet store. That list grew longer when she and River walked into the store, garnering the attention of Maynard, an older salesman who had once been a dog trainer himself. He suggested several different puzzle toys that River could work on if bored, a leash that wrapped around her waist for running and tough hikes, and a book on training service dogs.

Several hundred dollars lighter, and the back of the RAV was filled with premium dog food, three orthopedic, jumbo dog beds, vitamins and joint supplements, grooming supplies, and dozens of other things. Through it all River had walked patiently by her side. When it came to selecting items, she found he had preferences and would put his paw on something if given the option. That's how she chose nearly everything once they figured it out.

"Well River, how about a walk? There's a little stretch of forest I need to check out, and I'd rather not do it alone. Hmm, seems I'm back to talking to someone who can't talk back. That's okay, buddy. We'll figure out how to communicate. Just be patient with me."