Page 88 of Ghosted
I place my hand over his and then put his other hand over my heart. “Me too,” I say with a happy sigh.
“Forever?” he asks, mouth ticking up in a dimple-inducing smile.
“And even after,” I reply.
And then I reach for him. Or he reaches for me. I can’t be sure which because it happens at once, simultaneously. I revel in the feel of his skin on mine. The press of his lips against my own, my jaw, my collarbone. His hands sliding along my back under the t-shirt, and the hard press of him between my legs. He’s everywhere. Everything. Both my undoing and the thing that sews me back together.
FORTY-SEVEN
“So,your souls banged and then you did?” Wren clarifies for Misha and Felix, shoving a soggy fry into her mouth.
“I mean, okay, I guess you can phrase it that way,” I say indignantly, thinking it was actually much more profound than that, but that’s unfortunately pretty much the gist of it.
“Cool.” She nods agreeably and tucks her legs under her.
“I for one think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Misha says, plopping on the other side of his dark gray sectional. This is the first time we’ve all hung out, but it definitely won’t be the last. Misha acts as a natural shield between Wren and me, and I appreciate it too much to let him go now.
“Why don’t you tether your soul to mine?” Felix asks grumpily, sitting close to Misha so they can share their bowl of popcorn.
“I’m afraid that’s not in my skillset, my love,” Misha replies with a laugh. “But hey, I did get you a very nice ring,” he points out, tapping a nail on the gold band adorning Felix’s ring finger.
Felix shrugs his slight shoulders amicably. “Yeah, okay.” He rests his head on Misha’s much larger bicep. “So, where is your ghost husband anyway?”
I choke on a piece of popcorn, and Wren pounds my back until I stop. “Oh god, don’t call him that,” I get out eventually.
“Ghost lover?” Misha supplies with a shit-eating grin.
I bury my face in one of their very nice throw pillows, feeling my entire face flame.
“I prefer the term ghost husband, if I get a choice,” Dean says in my ear.
I turn my head a bit so I can glare at him. “You don’t.”
“Um, who is she talking to?” Felix asks Wren.
“Dean,” Wren says tiredly. Now that we have this connection, it’s easier for her to be around him. He’s more visible to her, so it’s less of a headache. My aura almost acts like glasses when she looks at him.
I sit up and take the handheld whiteboard and marker out of my bag at my feet and hand it to Dean. He begins writing, his neat, condensed script flying over the board.
“Woah,” Misha and Felix exclaim together, watching the board hover and marker write seemingly on its own.
Dean flips it around: Hey guys, I’m Dean. Please do refer to me as Ghost Husband. Even if it annoys Rae. Actually, especially if it annoys her.
I push his shoulder while they all laugh. “Pest,” I chide lightly while he uses the eraser on the marker cap to wipe the board. This was the best workaround for him to communicate with everyone else now that he’s so strong. Before, he struggled with anything fine motor, so writing legibly on his own wasn’t possible.
We tested it for the first time last week when we had a celebratoryfamily dinner with his parents and siblings and their partners. Dean’s murder has officially been solved. Richard had gone on the dark web to find a hitman, thinking that he’d be able to get away with it more easily. Richard drugged Dean at the office, and then the hitman, one Carver Bingham, lay in wait in Dean’s garage. Apparently, Dean wasn’t his first victim, but Richard was his first stupid client who didn’t do enough to cover his tracks.
Bingham was attempting to extort Richard into taking the full blame because he was worried the investigation was getting too close to him. That’s what ultimately spooked Richard into running in the first place. Bingham had sent him threatening messages, and Richard figured he’d take his chances over the border rather than stay a sitting duck for a historically lethal hitman. Now both men are behind bars with murder and conspiracy to commit murder charges, among others.
Good riddance.
All four of the male Crawford progenies look exactly like their dad, with threads of their mom woven in. It was like seeing Dean in different life stages if he had chosen different paths. It was a little awkward at first because Jack and Marielle hadn’t told his siblings about me (understandably).
So, having to explain the whole complicated backstory and having Dean chime in with his handy whiteboard was interesting to say the least. By the end of the night, Dean was so quick with it, it was hardly noticeable that his contributions came in the form of an Expo marker and an increasingly grubby whiteboard.
They all talked over each other, shouting questions and jokes. I left the dinner with my head pounding but my heart full. By the end of the night, they folded me into the Crawfordfamily like I’d always belonged. I can see why Dean loves them so much.
Dean is really excited that he doesn’t have to give up his relationship with his family. It’s not the same, but he can still be with them, too. When I told Jack and Marielle about the tether, Mari immediately began crying and thanking me. She wanted him to move on, but if that wasn’t his choice, she was happy he could stick around in a more permanent way.
