Chapter 63
Ghost didn't join the first play. He stayed near the edge of the lawn, arms crossed, watching the scramble as Torch called positions. But his attention kept pulling toward the patio.
Rachel sat with Emily, her hair falling in loose waves across her shoulder, the bottle of lemonade balanced on one knee.
She was smiling at something his sister said, her shoulders relaxed in a way they hadn't been three weeks ago.
The bruises on her had faded to faint yellow-green shadows, barely visible unless you knew where to look. He knew where to look.
She hadn't spoken much since dinner started. Just smiled, nodded, gave the guys space to reconnect. She didn't push her way into conversations or demand attention. She just existed there, comfortable in her own skin.
Ghost had spent years training himself to stay sharp. To keep moving. To never fully relax because relaxation got you killed. But watching her now, bare feet tucked under her chair, laughing at something Emily said, his pulse stayed steady. The constant static in his head went quiet.
He hadn't expected that. Hadn't realized how much he needed it until she was there.
Torch called the play. Frost made the grab and broke left, cutting across the grass.
Ghost watched the route for one more beat, then moved.
He hit the grass fast, cut the corner, and intercepted Frost mid-stride. The ball came clean out of the air into his hands. Frost shouted. The rest of the guys erupted.
"You've been standing still for twenty minutes!" Rogue yelled, laughing. "Where the hell did that come from?"
Ghost didn't answer. Just tossed the ball to Torch and fell into formation.
The game wound down as the sun dropped lower, painting the yard in orange and gold. Ghost's shirt stuck to his back with sweat, his muscles loose and warm. He'd forgotten how good it felt to just play, no objectives, no stakes, just movement for the sake of it.
Torch called it after the last touchdown. "Alright, I'm done. Time to eat."
The team drifted back toward the patio in clusters. Ghost hung back, letting them pass. He looked back at Rachel.
She was leaning back in her chair, legs stretched in front of her, the hem of her dress fluttering just above her knees. Emily sat beside her, still talking.
Ghost crossed to them. His T-shirt clung to his chest, still damp. His jaw itched with stubble he hadn't bothered shaving this morning. He passed behind Emily's chair and stopped behind Rachel, one hand brushing her shoulder before settling there. The skin under his palm was warm from the sun.
"You good?" he asked quietly.
Rachel tilted her head back enough to catch his eyes. "Better than good."
He let his thumb graze the edge of her shoulder, careful where the fading bruises still marked her skin. "Come here."
She stood. Emily didn't comment, just gave Rachel a knowing look.
Ghost took her hand and led her toward the house.
"Where are we going?" Rachel asked.
He didn't answer, just pulled her through the sliding glass door into the kitchen. The noise from outside muffled immediately, replaced by the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of waves through the open windows.
The kitchen was dim, just the last of the sunset filtering through the blinds, casting orange stripes across the counter. Ghost stopped near the island and turned to face her.
Rachel stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Her hands found his chest, fingers spreading across the damp fabric of his shirt.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. She tilted her head back to look at him.
"Better?" she asked softly.
"Yeah." His hand cupped her jaw. "Needed you to myself for a minute."
Rachel leaned into him. "I like this version of you."
He huffed a quiet breath, lips brushing her hairline. "Which one?"
“The relaxed one.”
Ghost was quiet for a moment. "Spent twenty years not knowing how to do that."
Rachel slid her hands up his chest to his neck, fingers catching in his hair. Close enough now that he could feel her breath against his throat.
"Yeah, well," she said softly. "I wasn't exactly good at it either." He looked down at her, his hand moving from her neck to cup her jaw. "Guess we'll learn."
He kissed her then, slow at first, deliberate, but it deepened quickly. His other hand slid lower on her waist, pulling her flush against him. She responded immediately, her fingers tightening in his hair, her body pressing into his.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing harder. His thumb tracing along her jaw.
"We should get back out there," Rachel whispered, but she didn't move.
Ghost's hand tightened on her waist. "In a minute."
She smiled against his mouth. "They're gonna notice we're gone."
"Let them notice."
He kissed her again, slower this time. Taking his time. The sunset painted orange light across her face through the blinds, and he felt something settle in his chest, something he'd been chasing for years without knowing it.
This. Her. Home.
When they finally pulled apart, Rachel's cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from his kiss. She looked up at him with those dark eyes and smiled.
"Okay," Ghost said quietly. "Now we can go back."
Ghost brushed his thumb across her bottom lip once more before stepping back, taking her hand.