Page 48 of Ghosted (The Ravenwood #1)

THIRTY-SEVEN

“Um, Rae. What’s your sister supposed to be?” Dean asks in my ear. We’ve just walked in to find my family milling about, eating the last few pieces of unwanted candy. Wren has yet to remove any part of her nightmare costume, choosing instead to lurk menacingly in the dim light.

“Some sort of spider-fly monstrosity,” I whisper back.

“C-cool,” he stutters, and I can sense a literal shiver running down his spine. I cough to hide my laugh.

“So, is the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing happening right now?” Wren asks, stalking closer. Aunt Clarissa looks over, interested.

“What are you talking about?” Dad asks Wren, looking around the room.

“Rae’s ghost boyfriend,” Wren says matter-of-factly. “Dean?” she clarifies as though they should know who she’s talking about .

“Oh, is that Dean boy here now?” Aunt Clarissa asks, looking around.

I flush so hot, I feel feverish. I never exactly got around to telling Mom and Dad about Dean. It wasn’t on purpose, I’ve just been so busy. And I didn’t want to worry them. And, you know, all the other age-old excuses in the book.

“Rae, what is she talking about?” my mom asks, turning an inquisitive look my way.

“Um,” I start. “I—well. It’s complicated.”

“Ouch,” Dean says, looking wounded.

“Complicated, how?” Mom asks.

I clear my throat and try again, “Remember that guy I went on a date with a couple of months ago?” When both of my parents nod, I continue, “Well, he didn’t actually ghost me.

Or okay, he kind of did. But it wasn’t on purpose!

He died in this random way and we’re pretty sure he was murdered?

Then he appeared to me because of the whole, you know, medium thing… ” I trail off.

“So, you’ve been seeing him… while he’s a ghost? And he’s here right now?” My dad tries to clarify.

“Yes to both? I mean, sort of. We haven’t defined the relationship or anything!”

Why is my voice getting so high? Why am I so defensive?

“I would just like to take the time to point out now that I am totally fine with being your boyfriend,” Dean says, patting my shoulder.

“Do we really need to worry about labels right now?” I ask him under my breath.

“Who’s worried? I already know who I belong with,” Dean says firmly.

I don’t even have time to process this little side conversation before Wren peels off her gross mask and says, “Oh, and we should also mention that you’re helping investigate his murder.”

I shoot her a face-melting glare, but she’s Wren, so she hardly flinches.

“What?” My parents ask at the same time.

“That is so dangerous!” My mom exclaims at the same time my dad says, “You should really let the police handle it, Bug.”

I sigh and launch into a semi-detailed overview of the entire “investigation” so far, being sure to emphasize that the police had already brushed it off as a suicide and weren’t looking into it.

“So, now we’re just waiting for something else to come up.

Either for Dean to remember more, or for Jack’s P.I. to uncover another lead.”

My mom opens and closes her mouth before saying, “Hold on. Did you say you were drugged? ”

I wince because I had sped past that part on purpose. “Yeah, but it wasn’t a big deal!” I say brightly. “Anyway, Mom, Dad, meet Dean Crawford, my erm boyfriend,” I finish weakly. I don’t know how to feel about the title, but it’s the closest thing to describe what he is to me.

They both paste on smiles that look like terribly done papier-maché, all wonky and distorted. My dad shakes himself a little and looks to both sides of me. “Nice to meet you, son,” he says.

“You as well, sir,” Dean says, stepping forward a little as if to shake my dad’s hand before realizing that that isn’t a possibility. “Damn. I used to be way better at meeting the family. This whole being dead schtick is for the birds.” He scowls.

I relay his niceties, leaving out the last comment for myself .

“So, everyone but us knew about this?” my mom asks, sounding for all the world like she might start crying.

I reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t on purpose, Mom. I just see Aunt Clarissa more often, and we got to talking. And Wren is Wren. Keeping anything from her is pointless. I’m sorry.”

She smiles and seems to blink away the sadness of my not confiding in her. “It’s alright, Bug. You’re almost thirty. It’s silly for me to think that you have to tell me everything.”

“Maybe. But I should have told you about this,” I say, threading an arm through Dean’s.

She shrugs good-naturedly, and I can see the visions of grandchildren flashing and dying in her eyes. I was never sold on the kid thing, but now that the person I’m with physically can’t have children, it’s pretty much a done deal. She leans in to hug me, but pulls back in surprise.

“Did I just touch him?” she asks, astonished.

My head rears back in shock. “I don’t know, did you?”

I look up to see Dean’s wide eyes. “Try again. He’s over here,” I say to my mom, gesturing to my left side.

She tentatively reaches a hand out and pokes him in the chest. They both gasp, and my mom pulls her hand back like she’s been shocked.

“How?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“You’re probably acting as a conduit,” Wren says around a glob of nougat.

She studies the space between Dean and me, zeroing in on where we’re touching.

“Your connection to him is much stronger than any other spirit you’ve interacted with because you’ve spent a lot more time with him.

And you two have an emotional connection.

Or, maybe it’s just all the practice you’ve been getting. ”

“Woah,” Dean says. I agree.

We spend the next few minutes seeing if Dean can touch others, and if they can feel it. It only works if we’re touching each other.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Aunt C says. “You’re learning all kinds of new things.”

I can tell from Dean’s expression that he’s starting to get drained, so I decide it’s time for us to beg off. “And for my final trick, I’ll go upstairs and get eight hours of sleep,” I say with a bow.

Wren snorts and teases, “Yeah, right. Only if he lets you.”

I send her another scathing glare. “Okay!” I exclaim, hoping to redirect my parents' attention away from that little comment. “Let’s call it a night. It’s getting late.”

My mom gives me a shrewd look. “Fine. But we’re going to have a family dinner soon, and you will bring Dean.” It’s not a question, but a demand.

“Deal,” I say, offering her a smile. She pulls me in for a suffocating, but somehow still comforting, mom-hug.

I say bye to everyone else, flipping Wren off behind my mom’s back for good measure. She draws her thumb across her throat in response, and I roll my eyes, tugging Dean outside.

“Your family is great. Really intense,” Dean says as he follows me inside my apartment.

I laugh. “Yeah. Intense is one word for them.”

“But they’re good people. I can tell. They care about you.”

“Luck isn’t on my side for much, but I did win the family lottery,” I say, pushing the hood off my head in the warmth of my living room.

“So,” he says, stepping in front of me. “What are you supposed to be? ”

“A wolf,” I say indignantly, waving a hand at my black-painted nose.

“Ah. That explains the tail, then. I wondered, but was too afraid to ask,” he says, eyes bright with mischief even though his face remains stoic.

I sigh and protest, “Okay, why does everyone jump to a furry thing? What does that say about me?”

“Hey, I don’t judge! I can be into that if you want me to,” he says, tilting his head coyly.

“Um, no. I don’t judge either, but I think sex with a ghost is already strange enough for me,” I state, shaking my head.

He just laughs, placing a hand against my neck and tilting my face up. His expression turns more sincere when he says, “I liked that you called me your boyfriend. That you even introduced me to your family.”

I smile a little, feeling dazed in the thrall of his deep-brown eyes. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t know how else to explain us, and I wanted you to meet them before—Well. Before.” I finish, not wanting to say the rest.

Before you leave me here alone for the next fifty to sixty years.

“Right. Yeah. The whole ticking clock thing,” he says, stepping back. “And I guess you wouldn’t want to tell your family that we’re just having fun, right?” He nods his head, like it makes sense. Hearing him boil down whatever this is between us to just sex twists in my gut like a serrated knife.

I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. “Right, yeah,” I echo with a nod.

“Because it would be dumb to want anything more when we can’t have it,” he says, more to himself than me.

I feel a twinge of unease, knowing I’m keeping a secret from him… the possibility of more. But I want him to see what it feels like to have the option to move on before I bring it up. I want him to fully understand what he’s giving up if he chooses to stay.

“Yeah,” I finally answer, my body betraying me by stepping closer.

Dean searches my face, and whatever he reads there seems to give him the permission he needs. He steps into me, cupping my jaw reverently. “I can’t pretend with you, Rae,” he says, sounding almost angry with himself.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t pretend I don’t want you, no matter how short a time I get to have you.

I can’t pretend I’m not so fucking angry at whoever is in charge for letting me meet you too late.

I can’t pretend that I’m not falling for you.

I can’t pretend I’m not terrified of losing you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine.

`“I—” the words stick in my throat. I try to make more come out, to tell him that I feel the exact same way, but it feels like someone has wrapped a vise around my neck, cutting them off at the source.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’m the one with limited time, so I needed to tell you that. I don’t want any more regrets.”

I nod, taking the coward’s way out that he presents me with. I tilt my head minutely, and he does the same, leaning down so he can brush his lips against mine. He takes control of the kiss, drawing me impossibly close until I’m completely engulfed by him. He’s all I can taste. All I can feel.

Before I even realize it’s happening, he has me seated on the couch, my legs bracketing his hips as he kneels before me. He breaks the kiss and gives me a heated look that makes me squirm.

“So, I’m pretty sure this is one of your fantasies,” he says, gesturing to his pirate costume with a raised brow.

All I can do is nod along like an idiot, because I want him to get to the point and get back to kissing me.

“I’m going to lose the hat, because I don’t think it will allow for what I’m going to do,” he says, snapping his fingers.

The tricorn hat vanishes, and I pout. Now he looks more sexy-duke-that-got-lost-at-sea than pirate, but the eyeliner helps.

“Sorry, but I think it’ll be worth it for the view,” he states.

“The v—” I stutter as he flips the skirt of my dress over my stomach.

He yanks down my underwear, grips me behind the knees, and tugs me to the edge of the couch.

I step out of my underwear before he gets the idea to rip them off.

He pushes on my sternum, coaxing me to lean back against the couch.

He looks at me from his position on the floor, relishing in the anticipation of the moment.

Then he leans in greedily, using his hands to spread my thighs as wide as they’ll go to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

He was right. The view is definitely worth it.