Page 14 of All Ghosts Aren’t Dead (The Forgotten #1)

BLUE

T he common room glowed.

Not in the way churches glowed—with their cold candles and dusty stained glass—but with something warmer.

Something real.

Light from the fireplace moved up the black-paneled walls. Thick rugs covered the floors, and the couches were big enough to swallow a person whole.

There wasn’t an ugly pew in sight—just cushions and the kind of laughter I wanted to bottle up.

A television flickered against one wall. Board games littered the coffee table, half-played and spilled pieces decorating it. Someone had brought in candy. Bay, probably. There were tiny bits of sugar everywhere.

I hovered in the doorway, toes twitching against the carpet, caught between the warmth of the room and the ache of not knowing if I was allowed to step into it.

Simon invited me.

Still.

It felt… strange to be wanted—though I liked it.

A lot.

I liked it so deeply and so fiercely, my ribs hurt.

The couch dipped with movement. Bay was mid-laugh, a controller in one hand, socked foot resting on the edge of the coffee table. Miller was stretched out beside him with a book open across his knees. Rune sat closest to the fire, watching the game but not playing, his hands wrapped around a cup.

Simon saw me first. His face lit so brightly, I looked over my shoulder to see who he was looking at.

There was no one.

Just… me.

“Blue!” he called.

Bay gave a lazy wave, grin crooked around a mouthful of candy. Rune nodded, quiet and unreadable, but he scooted just enough to make space beside him.

I didn’t move—not yet.

The moment stretched across my chest like it was trying to make room for something new.

Friends.

I hadn’t had one, not since Jonah got taken away.

The church kids used to play outside the prayer room, barefoot and chasing each other through the grass. Sounds of laughter peeled against the sky, but it never got close enough to touch me.

I wasn’t allowed to play.

Father said I would ruin them, dirty them with my blood, my brain, and the wicked twist of letters I couldn’t make stand still.

Purge. Purge. Purge.

Impure. Bad. Broken.

The words had been etched into me, but maybe broken didn’t have to mean ruined. Maybe broken just meant broken… and those things had value too.

Daddy said so.

My sweater hung past my hands, sleeves loose and soft as they brushed the tops of my knuckles. It was too big for me, but I liked it that way.

It made me feel smaller. Safer.

Simon scooted over and patted the cushion beside him, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Bluebird,” he said. “You missed the part where Bay threw his game controller and blamed lag.”

“Lag is real,” Bay shot back, flinging a gummy worm at Simon. “Blue gets it. He’s on my team.”

I blinked. “I am?”

“Obviously.” He smirked. “You’ve got feral little brother energy. I’m the hot one. It works.”

A laugh startled out of me before I could stop it.

I didn’t even cover my mouth. It wasn’t wrong to laugh here.

I dropped into the seat beside Simon. The cushion swallowed my weight like a super-big hug. It reminded me of Daddy’s couch and the way it held me when I fell asleep against his side.

This wasn’t that, but it felt close.

Familiar in a way that didn’t make me panic.

Safe in a way that didn’t feel like a test.

I missed him— Daddy.

I’d woken up there this morning, still curled on his office couch, blanket tucked over me. I think he’d stayed the whole night. I think I’d felt him there, even while I was dreaming.

Bay tossed me a controller, the plastic still warm from his hands. It landed in my lap with a solid thunk, all buttons and bright lights.

I stared at it. “Uh.”

Simon leaned in, bumping his shoulder against mine. “You ever played before?”

I shook my head. “We weren’t allowed. I mean, there was a TV but Father only used it to show us doctored sermons. Hour- long videos about prayer and punishment and what happens when you let evil nest too deep.”

“Damn.” Bay whistled low. “That’s bleak.”

Miller looked up from his book. “What happens when evil nests too deep?”

“It eats your brain and rots you from the inside out.”

Bay snorted so hard he almost choked on his candy. “Well, fuck. I’m already halfway pickled.”

A breathless laugh spilled out of me. It felt like a small rebellion.

It felt… good.

Bay dropped to the floor in front of me, cross-legged and grinning like a devil who’d just found a new soul to ruin. “Okay, Bluebird. Crash course. Right trigger shoots, left trigger aims, A is jump, B is roll, X reloads, Y—eh, don’t worry about Y.”

I blinked at the controller. It looked more like a weapon than a toy. “And which one is… go?”

Simon chuckled beside me. “Just follow Bay’s lead. He’s loud enough to narrate everything.”

Bay gave the finger. “You’re welcome.”

The screen flared to life, the camera swinging fast as Bay’s character sprinted through some kind of desert battlefield. Mine just stood there, helmeted and holding a gun I didn’t remember picking up.

“Move with this stick,” Bay said, tapping the left one, “and aim with that one. You got this.”

I pressed the stick. My guy spun in a slow, awkward circle.

Bay groaned. “Okay, so we’re possessed. That’s fine. Happens to the best of us.”

Simon nudged my knee. “Just don’t shoot me, yeah?”

I gave the tiniest smile. “No promises.”

“Shoot him.” Miller turned a page in his book, not looking up. “You’ll earn our eternal respect.”

Bay flung something at him—an empty candy wrapper, I think. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, degenerate.”

He fished into the bag beside him and offered me something—a gummy shaped like a worm, sugar clinging to it like it’d just come from a storm. “Here,” he said, “first lesson in not being miserable—candy.”

I hesitated, turning it over in my palm. It was soft, squishy. It didn’t look like food, not the kind I was used to.

“You scared of it?” Bay asked, grinning like he’d dared me to eat glass.

I popped it in my mouth.

Sweet hit me first. Then sour. Then sweet again, like the flavor couldn’t make up its mind. I chewed slowly, the taste blooming like something bright across my tongue. I had no idea what it was supposed to be. Fruit? Magic?

I swallowed. “I like it.”

Bay fist-pumped.

I tried again with the controller. My character walked straight into a wall and got stuck there.

The game was chaos—flashes of gunfire, yelling from the screen, Bay shouting directions and insults in equal measure.

I wasn’t very good, but they didn’t seem to care.

Every time I failed, someone laughed. Every time I did something right, like shoot an enemy in the foot, Bay clapped like I’d just graduated from something important.

I didn’t know what to do with that kind of praise. It warmed something behind my ribs.

A pause screen appeared while Bay explained some trick-shot mechanics I was definitely never going to master.

“Okay, but real talk,” Bay said, flopping back like he’d been struck by divine revelation. “You’re trapped in an elevator. The lights flicker. Tension’s high. You’re sweating—but in a sexy way.”

Rune made a noise. “Here we go again.”

“Two men walk in. Option one: brooding mafia mystery—neck tattoo, bullet wound in the thigh, probably smells like gunpowder and grief, and calls you baby with deadpan menace. Option two: sunshine incarnate, golden retriever energy, arms like a Greek statue, shows up with snacks and says things like, ‘I saw this and thought of you.’ Who are you kissing before the elevator drops?”

Simon groaned. “Do we have to do this again?”

“Yes,” Bay said with absolute authority. “It’s tradition. We’re indoctrinating Blue. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Miller didn’t even look up. “This is the moment?”

Bay ignored him. “So? Which man are you choosing, Bluebird?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Samuel.”

Simon raised his eyebrows slowly, gaze flicking between us.

“Wait.” Bay blinked at me. “Our Samuel?”

“ My Samuel.” I corrected.

Mine.

The thought came fast, burning behind my ribs before I could shove it down. I pressed a hand to my stomach and whispered the syllables again, slower this time.

“Mine.”

I didn’t know what the word meant yet—not really—but I knew how it felt.

Solid. Unshakable.

The Truth.

“I kissed him yesterday,” I added quietly.

Bay sat upright like he’d been electrocuted. “You kissed him?”

Simon’s mouth actually dropped open.

Rune snorted into his drink. “Well, shit.”

“I knew it,” Bay shrieked. “I knew there was sexual tension! You kissed that sexy, emotionally repressed, stoic man? With your mouth ? On purpose?!”

Miller didn’t glance up. “And people say romance is dead.”

Bay was already halfway into a meltdown, one hand on his heart, the other flapping like he was trying to fan himself back to life. “You can’t just drop that and sit there all casual! Oh my God. Was it—did he— what happened? Did he kiss you back? Did you combust? Did the room catch fire? ”

“I think he liked it,” I murmured.

Everything in the room quieted then. Even the flickering menu screen on the TV felt far away, like it had stopped to listen.

I dropped my gaze to the controller in my lap. My thumb traced along one of the ridged buttons—slow and aimless.

I hadn’t meant to kiss him.

Not really.

I just… needed to. Like the way you need air when the room gets too tight, or the way you reach for a light when everything inside starts going dark.

It wasn’t planned.

It wasn’t brave.

It was just… instinct.

I wasn’t even sure I was doing it right, or if I was allowed.

When I kissed him, his mouth went soft, like maybe he’d been holding something back and my lips unlatched it.

The sound he’d made curled up in his throat and melted between us.

It made my knees go weak.

I wanted to do it again.

And again.

And again…

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I said softly.

Bay stayed quiet for a second too long, but his mouth hung open like he’d already started the next sentence and then swallowed it.