Page 89 of Ghosted
So, yeah. The whiteboard is great. Except when Dean used it to ask his parents to give me his house without my permission. That wasn’t cool.
Jack grinned so widely, I thought his face would split in half at the suggestion. “Of course. Of course, you two should have the house,” he had said. When I tried to argue, he folded his arms across his chest and said, “It’s his house, Rae. If the man wants to move back in and have you there too, I’m not going to argue with him. You could say it’s his dying wish.”
“He’s already dead!” I pointed out, not thrilled with being ganged up on.
“Exactly!” Mari wailed and promptly burst into tears, washing away any argument I had left. It’s been a week, and I’m beginning to think the tears were a ploy. And yet, this weekend I’m set to move my stuff into Dean’s place.
Mari and Jack refuse to let me pay for anything, even utilities. They were insistent that those would be paid from what Dean left them. They’re demanding that I view it as a gift for helping solve Dean’s murder. While I’ll never admit it, I am so grateful they’re strongarming me into it. I’ll miss my apartment, but the money from renting it out should be enough to save the store. At least for a while.
“Earth to Rae,” Wren says, waving her hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about all the crap I have left to pack.” Which isn’t a complete lie; I have to pack my whole kitchen and bathroom still. I shudder at the thought of having to put together another box. There’s a reason I haven’t moved more than once in my adult life.
“Oh boohoo, you have to move into a big, giant, fabulous house,” Misha says with an exaggerated pout, chucking a piece of popcorn at me.
Dean laughs next to me. “You make it sound like I’m kidnapping you,” he says, prodding my side.
“Oh, it’s entirely against my will,” I deadpan to the room.
“Whatever. I’m moving in if my rent goes up again,” Wren states, picking the piece of popcorn out of my hair and eating it like the heathen she is.
“I’m not sure the house has a basement, so you’d probably burn with all of the natural light,” I quip.
“Oh look, a vampire joke, and it only took thirty minutes,” Wren bites back.
“So, how aboutLove on the Slopes? It’s supposed to be an extra-long episode tonight,” Felix interjects.
I look at him gratefully and nod, snuggling into Dean’s side. I don’t often feel very lucky, but sitting here with these people around me makes me feel like I’ve stumbled into the best luck of my life.
FORTY-EIGHT
SIX MONTHS LATER
My toes wiggleinto the sun-warmed sand, and I lounge back against my beach towel. This is the most skin I’ve exposed for public consumption since Alana Ruthen’s sweet-sixteen pool party. I was invited as a joke and didn’t find out untilaftermy clothes came off. Good times.
The heated look in Dean’s eye is enough to shake the decades-old embarrassment loose. “Stop looking at me like that,” I say, pushing up my oversized sunglasses and peering at him in his low-slung board shorts.
“Like what?” he says to my cleavage.
“Like you’re going to ravage me on this very public beach full of the elderly,” I say, biting back a smile.
“I’m invisible. If you’re quiet, I can taste you right here,” he says, voice roughened.
A zing of heat shoots between my legs at the thought, but… “I don’t think so. I’m not one for exhibitionism. Even less so when the viewers are my elderly aunt’s neighbors.” I chuck myswimsuit cover-up over my torso so he doesn’t get any ideas, laughing at his despondent expression.
Aunt Clarissa has been an official resident of Sunset Village for one month, and predictably, she’s causing chaos. Many of the nurses and community aids have already shared stories of Aunt C’s antics. Good to see she’s not letting old age stop her. Apparently, she leads an unsanctioned, nude sunrise yoga on Fridays. The other residents love it so much that management has agreed to look the other way.
Wren and her sun phobia are back with the rest of my family in Aunt C’s cottage, catching a midday nap. I decided to sneak out and get some beach time by myself while I could. I love my family, but it’s a really small cottage, and if I had to listen to Wren snore for one more second, I probably would have smothered her with the seahorse-print throw pillow I’ve been sleeping on at night.
“I miss being alone with you,” he sighs.
“It’s only been a couple of days,” I reply, thankful that this stretch of beach is mostly empty, so I can chat with Dean easily. While I’m beyond hiding my Gift in Ravenwood, the rest of the world isn’t ready to believe in ghosts yet.
“I’m having withdrawals,” Dean groans, throwing himself back on the sand. One of my favorite things about Dean is that he dresses for the occasion, even though he’s impervious to the weather changes, and that I’m the only one who sees him. My favorite are still his suits, which he thankfully keeps on a pretty constant rotation, just for me. Although, Dean in board shorts and nothing else is a close second.
“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I say, lying on my side and facing him, using my arm as a pillow.
He copies me, lining up so we’re face to face. “If I were anyfonder of you, Alderwood, it would need to be a case study. It’s already clinical. It’s not normal to love everything about a person the way I love you,” he says, smiling a little.
