Page 8 of Ghost's Revenge
"Yes, ma'am. I can do that."
"I believe you can. Otherwise you wouldn't be here." She stands up, signaling the end of our conversation. "They have routines here that help them feel safe. Morning kitchen duty, afternoon childcare, evening group sessions. Small, predictable patterns that help them rebuild their sense of control."
"Understood."
"And Derek? If you ever feel like this assignment is becoming... complicated for you personally, I need you to tell me. These women can't afford to be anyone's emotional experiment."
The warning is delivered kindly but firmly, and I hear what she's really saying. Don't get attached. Don't confuse protection with possession. Don't let whatever fucked-up issues I carry interfere with doing the job I was sent here to do.
"It won't be a problem."
"Good. Then I think we understand each other."
Chapter 4 - Debbie
I'm helping Maria fold laundry in the living room when I hear Tyler's voice from the front porch, bright and excited in the way that always makes my heart skip. But when I catch the words he's saying, my blood turns to ice.
"Do you want to play baseball with me? My mom doesn't know how to throw a ball right."
I drop the towel I'm holding and rush to the window, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. Through the glass, I can see Derek—Ghost—standing at the bottom of the porch steps, looking like he's been caught completely off guard. Tyler is bouncing on his toes in front of him, clutching his worn baseball glove like it's the most precious thing in the world.
"Tyler," I call through the screen door, trying to keep my voice calm even though panic is clawing at my throat. "Come inside, baby."
But Tyler ignores me, too focused on the massive man in front of him who probably looks like a giant from a four-year-old's perspective.
"I have a ball and everything. Mom got it for me at the store, but she throws like a girl."
I cringe at the words. Something David used to say, something Tyler picked up before I could catch it. Another reminder of all the ways my ex-husband poisoned our lives, even in the smallest details.
"Tyler, now." My voice comes out sharper than I intend, and I see Derek's head turn toward the door. Even from this distance, I can feel the weight of his attention.
"But Mom—"
"Your mom's right," Derek says quietly, his deep voice carrying easily across the small yard. "You should go inside."
For a moment, I think that's the end of it. That Tyler will listen and come back in, and Derek will get on his motorcycle and disappear for the rest of the day. It would be safer that way. Simpler.
But Tyler doesn't move. Instead, he tilts his head up at Derek with the kind of fearless curiosity that children have before the world teaches them to be afraid.
"Are you scared of my mom?"
From my position by the window, I can see Derek's shoulders tense, can see him glance toward the door where he knows I'm listening. I should intervene, should go out there and drag Tyler inside before this gets any more complicated.
Instead, I find myself holding my breath, waiting to hear what he'll say.
"No," Derek says finally. "I'm not scared of your mom. But she's trying to keep you safe, and that means listening when she tells you to come inside."
"But I just want to play baseball." Tyler's voice takes on that whining tone that means he's gearing up for a full meltdown. "Nobody ever wants to play with me."
It's true, and I hate that it's true. The other children at the shelter are either too young or too traumatized to play, and I... I've never been good at sports. David used to mock the way I threw, used to say I was embarrassing myself and him every time I tried to play catch with Tyler in the backyard.
So, I stopped trying.
"Please?" Tyler continues, his small voice carrying a note of desperation that makes my chest tight. "Just for a little bit? I promise I'll go inside after."
I should say no. Should march out there and explain to my four-year-old that we don't ask dangerous bikers to play games with us, no matter how lonely we are. Should remind him that we're supposed to be invisible here, quiet and grateful and not causing any trouble for the people trying to help us.
But Derek surprises me.
