Page 52 of Ghosted (The Ravenwood #1)

FORTY

Dean settles next to me while I curl up on his cloud couch.

He insisted we come here to watch the latest John Wick.

Apparently, my TV is too small to do the movie justice.

I’m not much of an action movie person, but I’ll watch Keanu Reeves in a suit any day.

My drooling over him was so obvious in the first half of the movie that Dean got a little jealous.

“Really?” I had asked. “You’re jealous of a celebrity when I have about a zero percent chance of ever seeing him in person?” I teased, poking him in the ribs when he started grumbling about it.

He looked at me and said, “Rae, I’m dead.

You being with me should be impossible on pretty much every level, but here we are.

I don’t put anything past you. I fully believe that if you wanted him and put your mind to it, you could figure it out.

If you want it to happen, it happens.” I melted at that and resolved to stop undressing Keanu with my eyes—or at least be less obvious about it .

Now, he’s watching me finish eating the Vietnamese takeout I had delivered. I polish off my Bahn Mi (sans jalapenos) while we chat about the store and whether or not we’ll be able to make it once the rent increases.

“You know, you could move in here and rent out your apartment for extra income,” Dean says casually, gesturing around him.

I almost choke on my sandwich and sputter, “What?”

“You could live here,” he says more seriously, apparently warming to the idea. “Think about it. The rent would add a lot of extra income a month.”

“You’re missing the obvious,” I state flatly. Oh, to be so casual with money that you can’t fathom why someone won’t just move into your gigantic house.

“Which is?”

“Dean. I love that you are so giving, but I could not afford a mortgage on this house. There’s no fucking way. Didn’t I mention I don’t pay rent? Plus, I don’t have much expendable income right now.”

“It’s paid for,” he says, the tips of his ears going pink. When my mouth drops open, he elaborates, “I used the trust my grandpa left me, along with my savings. I didn’t want to pay a mortgage, so I got a decent deal by paying cash.” He shifts a little in his seat.

I open and close my mouth like a fish. I finally say, “So what, you’d just expect your parents to gift it to me since it’s technically theirs now?”

“Or they could ‘rent it’ to you and just charge the property tax and utilities. And even then, I’ll ask that the cash comes out of the money I left to them,” he says.

“Dean, I can’t. It’s too much.” I shake my head adamantly .

“Come on,” he cajoles. “I never got the chance to spoil you while I was alive. Let me do it now that I’m dead.”

“This is beyond spoiling,” I say, dropping my head in my hands.

“Just think about it, okay?” he asks.

I sigh, and I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but… “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

The grin that splits his face is positively giddy, and I feel myself smile in response. After I finish my dinner, he stands and holds out his hand to me. “Come with me? There’s something I’ve been wanting to do with you for a while,” he says with a tender look I can’t resist.

I take his hand and he guides me upstairs to his room. He pushes open the door and clicks on the lights, which are set to a dim glow. “Ah. Does the thing you want to do happen to involve getting naked?” I ask, looking pointedly south.

His laugh is bold and sweet, and I want to be wrapped in it for the rest of my life.

It’s the most carefree I’ve heard him sound since he showed up in my living room, divested of his earthly body.

“No. Well, that can happen later,” he clarifies.

He suddenly looks embarrassed when he mumbles, “I wanted to ask you to dance.”

“To dance?” I ask, looking down at my sweats and oversized long-sleeve shirt.

“Yeah. But, we don’t have to,” he rushes out.

Before he can shut off the lights, I reach out a hand and grab his again. “Okay, let’s dance,” I say, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. I’d walk over hot coals for him if he asked nicely enough, so dancing is an easy yes. “I’m not much of a dancer, though,” I warn.

He squeezes my hand before letting go so he can hunt for the right album. “It’s a good thing I can’t break a toe in this form then,” he teases, setting a record on his record player. He fiddles with it until “I, Carrion” by Hozier bathes the room in ethereal sound.

Dean reaches out to me and draws me close, placing my hand on his chest and the other around his neck.

He covers my hand on his chest with his own, wrapping his other securely around my waist. I lean my head so my cheek presses over his heart and close my eyes as we sway.

The music entwines around us, carrying my feet with it.

It’s not perfect. I stumble once or twice, Dean disappearing his feet just in time to avoid getting a toe smushed. But we laugh it off and continue swaying, turning in a gentle circle.

He holds me against him like something precious, and I feel a tear slip down my cheek.

I’m not even sure why I’m crying. Maybe it’s the beauty of the song.

Maybe it’s the tenderness of the moment.

Or maybe it’s because whenever we have moments like this, it feels like I’m stealing a piece of him for myself.

Like we’re existing in borrowed time, and I know one day it will catch up to us.

Dean notices my tears and presses me extra close. “I know listening to Hozier borders on a religious experience, but I get the sense that you’re not crying over Andrew,” he murmurs in my hair.

“I’m just pre-missing you,” I say into his chest.

He sighs, sending a wave of goosebumps from the crown of my head down my spine. “Yeah. Me too.” We continue to sway, holding on to each other like this can last, but knowing it’s more like holding on to sand cupped between our palms.

The song transitions to another on the album that I’m less familiar with, and Dean pulls back a little. Just enough so we can look each other in the eye. “Listen, I know I thought my unfinished business was solving my murder, but now I’m not so sure.”

My brow furrows, and I ask, “What do you mean?”

He cups my jaw, tracing his thumb down the slope of my cheek tenderly. “You’re my unfinished business, Rae. I can’t leave this place knowing I’m leaving you behind.”

The air whooshes out of me, and I close my eyes against the urge to tell him about the tether. “Dean, you can’t stay here for me,” I argue. “You deserve to go find peace. You deserve to find whatever’s on the other side.”

He shakes his head sadly. “I wouldn’t know peace if I didn’t have you. There would be no peace for me knowing I couldn’t see you, be with you. Knowing that I chose to leave you.”

“You don’t know that,” I say. “Rebecca just passed on, and right before she left, I could feel the other side for a moment. It was warm, Dean. And happy. If you went, you’d be okay. More than okay.” My chin trembles with the strain of holding back a flood of tears.

“Do you not want me to stay?” he asks, his face suddenly guarded. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking over my shoulder and clenching his jaw, “I should have asked before I assumed.”

We stop swaying, and I say, “I want nothing more than to spend forever with you. I never want you to leave me.”

“Then… What?” he asks, confused.

I swallow as something breaks in my chest. “Dean. I can’t ask you to postpone eternity in paradise for me.

I can’t ask you to stay here in this fucked up world living a half-life when you can be somewhere better.

You deserve that. You had your life ripped from you by a selfish asshole.

I can’t ask that you give me your eternity. ”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Dean asks, pressing a hard kiss to my cheek, taking my tears between his lips.

“ You are my peace. I don’t want any future that doesn’t have you in it.

I’m in love with you, Rae Alderwood. I’ll gladly give up the cherubs and white fluffy clouds or whatever if it means I get to spend it with you. ”

My breath hitches, and I pull him in for a kiss, tasting the salt of my own tears. When we part, I say, “I love you, too.”

He must see the hesitation on my face because he says, “Then what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me? I can tell you’ve been holding something back for a while now, so what is it?” He raises one eyebrow. “You’re not secretly married or something, are you?”

His expression lightens at my laugh. “No, definitely not,” I say, thinking of Aunt C saying that he deserves to know his options and feel my resolve crumble.

“When I was looking through that old grimoire, there was a journal entry,” I say.

And then I launch into the whole story, hardly pausing to catch my breath because I know if I do, I might chicken out.

“So, this tether. Does it hurt you in any way?” he asks afterwards.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. It almost seems more like an energy exchange than anything. I think it’s more a way to keep you here with me until I pass on, and then you go where I go.”

“So, what’s the downside? What’s the big secret?”

“Um… That you would be stuck here until I died? And then even after that, I think you’d be stuck with me.”

“Rae,” he chastises with a scowl.

“What?” I ask, annoyed .

“That’s not a downside. That’s literally just a list of things I want to happen.”

I search his face for any hesitation. Finding none, I venture, “Yeah?”

“Yes, Alderwood. Bind us together. I always knew I’d marry you,” he says slyly, calling back to the conversation we had on our first date.

I hold my hands up, feeling my palms sweat. “Woah, woah. Who said anything about marriage?”

He snorts a laugh. “Uh, I’m pretty sure binding our souls together is much more serious than a piece of paper issued by the state of Massachusetts.”

I tilt my head in consideration. “Okay, well I didn’t see it that way until now. Listen, I want you to really think about this before we do it. Once it happens, I don’t see how it can be undone. So let’s wait until we fully solve your murder first, okay? I just want you to be sure.”

Dean sighs and gathers me in close for a hug. “Okay, Alderwood. Whatever you need so you know I’m in this forever. No takesies backsies.”

I laugh against his chest. “No takesies backsies?”

I feel him shake his head against my crown. “None.”