Ranger stared him down another minute before turning and walking back towards the house.
“For the record,” Ghost called after him, “I have no intention of ever hurting your sister.”
Ranger spun back around. “Then why are you playing with her? I’m not blind, man. I see the way she looks at you. She’s about to get married. She’s starting a new chapter of her life! Why are you trying to fuck that up?”
Ghost put the plate onto the seat of his bike. It took him a second to make sure it was balanced before he could turn his attention back to Ranger. “I’m not trying to fuck anything up,” he said honestly and sincerely.
Ranger walked back to him slowly. “I don’t understand what is going on with you. I get that you’re stressed, but I know you, Ghost. That’s not enough to make you act like this. I even questioned last night if you were drunk, but you’d never drink and drive.” Neither was Ghost a heavy drinker. He indulged, sure, but not enough to impair his judgement or be a risk on the road. “All I know is that whatever is affecting you is also affecting Becks. And as pissed as I am at you right now, I’d rather you be in the cage with her for that long drive into the city than not. So my hands are tied with that one. But for the love of God, Ghost, donotdo anything to upset her or ruin this weekend for her.”
Ghost had already said his intention in that regard, so he wouldn’t repeat himself. But he did have to ask, “What do you know of her fiancé? No one seems to talk about him.”
Ranger shrugged, a little too flippantly for Ghost’s liking. “Guy’s a lawyer in a law firm in Atlanta. He’s young, a little douchey for my tastes, but then, I’m not the one marrying him.”
That wasn’t exactly a glowing recommendation. “Do you respect him?”
Ghost didn’t bother to ask if Ranger liked the guy, because the man was sleeping with his sister. Which pissed Ghost the fuck off any time that thought came to mind, so he tried his damnedest not to think about it. But there was a difference between liking someone and respecting them, and, both military men, they knew it well.
Ranger looked like he smelled something foul as he answered tersely, “No.”
“Then why the fuck are you allowing her to marry him?” Ghost demanded. He wasn’t exactly surprised by Ranger’s answer, but figured there had to be something about the guy that Ranger liked if he was letting this wedding happen.
“‘Allow’?” Ranger repeated like it was a blasphemous word. “Are you fucking with me right now? She’s mysister, not myslave or my servant. Do I like her choice in husbands? Fuck no, but he’sherchoice, Ghost. Maybe that’s something you’re struggling with right now, but I’m not. He treats her well, and for some reason outside my comprehension, she loves him. If the guy was some asshole who abused her either physically or emotionally, he’d already be fertilizer. But he’s not. So yeah, I took a step back and kept my mouth shut about my feelings towards the guy because he makes herhappy.”
God-fucking-damnit. Hadn’t that been Ghost’s own argument to himself last night? He would do whatever made Becks happy, because her happiness was all that mattered. Even if it caused him pain. Fuck.
Ghost nodded slowly, feeling like a weight was pulling him down to the bottom of the sea. “What time does your aunt’s plane land?”
“A little after twelve. Knowing city traffic, you might want to leave sooner than later,” Ranger pointed out.
Ghost picked up his plate of pancakes, appetite completely obliterated. “I’ll go get my boots. Tell your sister we’re leaving in ten.”
Becks didn’t evenlast five minutes. They hadn’t made it to the highway before she couldn’t stand the silence anymore. She had no idea why her mom was insisting Ghost go with her to the city—a drive she made on her own all the time—but she didn’t argue with the plan because the car ride gave her a safe opportunity to talk to Ghost. There was a console separating them, and they weredriving. What trouble could they possibly get into?
Her curiosity about the man was too great. She knew things about him, but they were all secondhand through Liam. Shewanted to learn about Ghostfrom him. Because, apparently, she was a masochist. It was the only explanation as to why she was excited to get into the car with him, alone, for three hours.
Becks’ eyes landed on her phone in the cupholder of herFiat. The car felt so small with Ghost’s large presence inside. He wasn’t overly tall or wide for it, but the magnetism he possessed was intense. She’d texted Ritchie last night to tell him about her day and again this morning to let him know what was going on. Both messages only got a thumb’s up emoji attached to the message.
It was a bit disheartening, but he was busy. He had to go into the office really early this morning to be able to leave by three this afternoon. Most of their outside guests were staying at the hotel down the road, along with most of the groomsmen and her bridesmaids. Ritchie and Becks had the honeymoon suite scheduled tomorrow night too, and then they would be catching an early morning flight.
She had to respect his silence today, because he was sacrificing his time now so they could have their time together later. She just missed him. It wasn’t like he was that big of a texter anyway. In the beginning of their relationship, he used to send her poetry via email. He was very good, but too embarrassed by the talent to do anything with his poems. She had them all saved in a drive on her computer, hoping to convince him to publish someday.
Her eyes traveled from her silent phone to Ghost. His hands were tight on the steering wheel and his posture was rigid. God, he was beautiful. Not Hollywood beautiful, but a rough, rugged beauty that was all man. She knew he’d been a SEAL, and that in and of itself was beyond impressive.
“Do you prefer ‘Taran’ or ‘Ghost’?” She wasn’t sure when she learned that he spelled his name with an ‘an’ instead of the traditional ‘en’. He was a ginger, but had a standard Americanaccent. She wasn’t sure what his roots were specifically or if the alternate spelling meant something specific.
“Is that really what you want to ask me, Rebel?” He didn’t take his eyes off the road.
Her cheeks flushed at the reminder that he somehow knew about her podcast. Did Liam? “No, but I’d like to know anyway.”
“‘Ghost’,” he replied. “I think your mom is the only one who name-checks me.”
There was something in his voice when he added that last bit of knowledge that piqued her interest. It almost sounded like longing. “What about your mom?”
“Never met her.”
Becks sat up straighter, turning in her seat to face him. “What about your dad?”
“Never met him either.” Before she could inquire more, he explained, “Foster kid. I went in when I was two, so I guess I had to have technically met them at some point, but I don’t remember them.”
