Page 60 of Ghosted (The Ravenwood #1)
FORTY-EIGHT
SIX MONTHS LATER
My toes wiggle into 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 until after my 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 my swimsuit 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 any fonder 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.
“You do not love everything about me. That’s impossible,” I counter, thinking about the way he piled all of my wet towels that I had left on the floor onto my side of the bed.
We have very different definitions of “clean.” Or the way I keep trying to “lose” money at his parents' house so I can pay them at least a little without them realizing it.
I know I drive him at least a little crazy.
“I do. Even the imperfect stuff, or the things that make us different,” he states, looking out at the horizon line where the deep blue of the ocean meets the candy blue of the sky.
“I think I love those things even more, to be honest. It’s a reminder that we chose each other, I guess.
It’s always felt easy with you, like breathing, but even when I want to trip you with your wet towel, it just feels fun.
I even love the way you wake up grumpy every single morning, no matter how much sleep you get,” he says with an affectionate laugh.
“Well, mornings are objectively the worst,” I argue with a sniff.
He inclines his head in agreement, kicking his foot out so his leg is entwined with mine, and we lie in silence for a little while, soaking in the heat of the sand below us and the steady whoosh of the ocean ahead of us.
It’s amazing how much more Dean can experience now with the tether.
When we’re touching, he can fully feel the world around him.
No more blanket of ether between him and the environment.
In moments like this, he makes it a point to maintain contact so he can feel the sun on his face again and the supportive hand of the earth beneath him.
I knew he’d want to soak this in, so that was another reason to come out here alone.
I get so happy watching him just be. His joy is the pitcher that fills my cup.
And with someone like Dean, that pitcher is endless.
“Rae Baby! Look at that tan!” Aunt Clarissa exclaims from across the dinner table.
I peer down at my lobster-red chest. “I think you mean burn,” I say with a laugh, touching the sore skin on my collarbone with a wince.
“And that’s why I have beef with the sun,” Wren states matter-of-factly, scooping some tofu taco filling into the tortillas on her plate.
“Right. Definitely not because you’d melt or anything,” I say, nodding sagely.
“You’d better watch it, Rae, or you might wake up tomorrow without any eyelashes,” she goads, making a snipping motion with her free hand.
“Well, that’s an unsettling threat,” Dean says from his place on my side.
My family has lovingly (and a little ridiculously) given him a place setting, plate and all, to my right.
They’ve accepted him with open arms, and Aunt C in particular is absolutely titillated by our relationship.
She hasn’t let me forget that she’s the one who urged me on last year.
I miss her most of the time, but I think the distance is for the best. She’d be at our house constantly otherwise.
“Girls,” our mom and Aunt C chime, giving eerily similar looks of warning on their faces.
We both sigh and go back to being mostly polite, only getting into a kicking fight under the table once when I casually brought up Julian to our parents. Their following inquisition was so entertaining. I’ll have a bruise on my ankle tomorrow. Worth it.
Dad launches into a detailed description of his plans to manage a new store, and I listen raptly.
I’ve been toying around with the idea of starting an honest-to-goodness medium business where I travel around to help people out.
While it’s a different idea than my dad’s, he always has valuable insight.
I love The Veil, but lately I’ve been feeling the itch to start something on my own. My mom had mentioned seeing me in one of her dreams; I was on a plane, zipping from location to location. It made me want to find a new adventure.
That petition to lower the rent increase finally passed a couple of months ago.
We all had to refuse to pay any increase for multiple months before Mr. Beauhurst gave in.
I guess he figured he would lose money trying to find businesses to replace an entire street.
Things are still tight, but it’s given everyone a bit of breathing room.
Lenore has taken over a lot of my managerial duties, leaving me time to do my medium work around town most of the day.
After that business owner’s meeting, I started to have a trickle and then a flood of people looking for me to help them talk to their loved ones.
Julian’s parents were my first house call.
His dad was right; their house was totally haunted.
His great aunt had a lot to say about how they renovated her house.
It’s been very fulfilling to help people and have them know it was me.
Not having to hide behind a curtain and a false name is oddly rewarding.
Sure, I’ve gotten some weird looks, and some of the mean girls from high school turned WASPs give me a wide berth at the grocery store these days, but that’s okay.
I’m not for everyone, and I like it that way.
For the first time in thirty years, I finally feel at peace with who I am. I don’t feel the need to run from it anymore. And that’s the greatest gift of all.