Chapter 28 #2
Before Walker hired Jax, the actual dog expert, Ghost had handled the hard cases.
He’d earned that rep for bringing Cinder around.
The Belgian Sheepdog had been feral when she first arrived, more wolf than domesticated animal, with a scar across her muzzle and a hatred of humans that matched her own.
Now she was the closest thing to family he had.
Until Naomi.
The thought ambushed him, and he shoved it away. They hadn’t defined what was between them. Hell, they hadn’t even had a real conversation about that kiss in his truck or what had happened after he’d found her. There’d been no time, with her recovery taking precedence over everything else.
They crossed the main yard toward the kennels, passing the barn where Walker was arguing with the world’s most stubborn highland cow. Maisie had a bad habit of standing right where you needed to be.
“I swear to fucking God, Mais, if you don’t move your stubborn ass...” Walker muttered, then spotted them approaching. “You heading to the new arrivals?”
“Ghost is going to help Jax evaluate the skittish one,” Boone confirmed.
A slight smile tipped up Walker’s mouth, and he nodded toward the agility yard. “Might want to check on that circus first.”
At that moment, a howl tore through the air, followed by something that sounded like… yodeling?
“Jesus,” Boone muttered and stalked toward the yard. “Can’t leave those two idiots alone for five seconds.”
“River and X?” Jax guessed.
“River and X,” Walker confirmed.
“This is going to be interesting,” Jax said, and he and Bear drifted toward the agility yard to take in what was sure to be a show.
Ghost moved to follow, but Walker stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Got a minute?”
Ghost paused, glancing toward the agility yard. The yodeling had given way to what sounded like X attempting to out-shout the dog, who was still howling. “I should—”
“They’ll survive without you.” Walker gestured toward the main house. “Come on. Coffee’s hot.”
Ghost hesitated, caught between the prospect of caffeine and the awareness that Walker rarely asked for one-on-one conversations without a reason.
But the old man was already walking away, clearly expecting Ghost to follow.
With a last look at the chaos unfolding in the agility yard, Ghost followed Walker to the main house.
Walker led him through the kitchen, where Johanna Perrin—therapist, cook, housekeeper, barrel rider—was elbow-deep in dough, flour dusting her forearms and a smudge of it across her cheek.
She glanced up as they passed, her eyes lingering on Ghost a second too long.
Like she was trying to read something in his face.
Everyone on the ranch had been doing that since he’d brought Naomi back—looking at him sideways, like they expected him to crack open and spill his guts.
They entered Walker’s office, a room that somehow managed to be both cluttered and orderly.
Maps of the ranch property lined one wall, marked with trails and landmarks.
Framed photos covered another—men in uniform, some with Walker, others without.
The fallen. The remembered. The reason this place existed.
Another wall showcased the men who had graduated from the Ridge and gone on to become productive members of society.
Walker gestured to a chair and poured two mugs from the carafe on the sideboard behind his desk.
The coffee was black and strong enough to strip paint.
Ghost took his without comment and waited.
Walker wasn’t the type to call a meeting without purpose, and Ghost wasn’t the type to fill silence with chatter.
“How’s she doing?” Walker asked finally, settling into his chair.
“Better.” Ghost kept his tone neutral. “Ribs are still giving her trouble. She gets tired easily.”
Walker nodded, eyes steady on Ghost’s face. “And how are you doing?”
The question caught him off guard. Nobody asked him how he was doing. Not because they didn’t care, but because they knew better than to expect an honest answer.
“Fine,” he said automatically.
Walker’s mouth quirked. “Sure you are.”
Ghost took a sip of coffee to avoid responding. The liquid scalded his tongue, but he welcomed the burn. It gave him something to focus on besides the hollow feeling in his chest, the constant hum of vigilance that hadn’t left him since he’d found Naomi in that clearing.
“Boone mentioned you called Isolde,” Walker said, changing tack so abruptly that Ghost nearly choked on his coffee.
He set his mug down carefully, but didn’t comment.
“I get it. You thought she had Naomi,” Walker continued, “but now that we know she didn’t…” He trailed off and waited a beat. When Ghsot didn’t fill the silence, he finished, “I have concerns. Is she going to be a problem for the Ridge?”
“No.” Of that, at least, he was one-hundred percent certain.
Walker took a sip of his coffee. “What about you? Is she going to be a problem for you?”
“No.” Ghost kept his gaze steady, not breaking eye contact with Walker. Despite her threats, Isolde wouldn’t try anything. She knew he still had the intel that could nuke her career.
“You sure about that?” Walker’s voice held no judgment, just quiet concern. “Because last time she blew through here, you disappeared for three days and came back looking like you’d gone ten rounds with your own demons.”
Ghost’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like being reminded of that weakness. It had happened during his first month at Valor Ridge. She’d tracked him down and offered him his old life back. He hadn’t trusted her, but he also still hadn’t been sure he belonged at the Ridge, so he’d agreed.
Or at least that was the reason he’d told himself.
But the reality of it was he’d agreed because she’d had her claws so deep into him that even after her betrayal, even after losing eight years of his life, he’d been unable to tell her no.
And Walker knew that.
He shook his head. “It’s different now.”
“Because of Naomi?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Walker had always been too perceptive for his own good, reading people like they were open books.
Most of the time, Ghost appreciated that quality. Right now, not so much.
Walker studied him over the rim of his mug. “She’s good for you.”
Ghost shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. “She doesn’t need someone like me in her life.”
A slow smile spread across Walker’s face. “You know who else sat there just a few months ago and said the exact same thing? Jax. And I’ll tell you what I told him. I think that’s her decision to make, don’t you?”
The words hit too close to the truth, and Ghost looked away, focusing on the photographs lining the wall. Men with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Brothers in everything but blood. The kind of connections he’d spent years avoiding.
“You know what your problem is?” Walker asked after a beat.
Ghost snorted. “I only have one?”
“You’re waiting for someone to tell you you’ve earned your place here.”
His gaze shot to Walker as his stomach bungeed uncomfortably into his throat. “What?”
Walker nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. And I’m not going to that, because I don’t think it needs to be said. But I will remind you—you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with words Ghost couldn’t bring himself to say. The weight of his past pressed down on him, the ghosts that had earned him his name following him even here, to this sanctuary Walker had built.
Then: “I used to think staying alive was enough. But now she’s here. And it’s not.”
Walker’s expression softened. “Good. That’s growth.”
“It’s vulnerability.”
Walker shrugged. “Same thing.”
The noise outside from the agility yard seeped through the walls of the house, and Walker pushed himself out of his chair. “We should go check on that.”
Ghost set aside his coffee—his throat was so tight, there was no way he’d be able to drink it now—and stood, moving toward the door.
“You have a family here, Owen,” Walker said quietly at his back. “Whether you believe you deserve one or not. We’re here, and we’ve got your back. Always.”