Ghost wasn’t the kind of man who asked for much. Not out loud, at least. But being with you—being safe, finally—meant confronting all the little ways the past still clung to him.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, thumbing through your phone, when he stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest like he was bracing for a hit that wouldn’t come.

He cleared his throat quietly. “Hey… I was thinking of joining the lads for game night tonight. Just for a bit.” It was almost like he was asking this mother to let him play with his friends-

You looked up, genuinely surprised. “Game night?”

His eyes flicked away immediately, jaw tightening. “Yeah, no—forget it. Doesn’t matter. I’ll skip it.” He turned slightly like he was already dismissing himself.

There it was—that instinct to retreat the second he felt uncertain. The words had barely left his mouth before he tried to take them back. Like he was too much. Like the thought of wanting something as simple as an evening of laughter with his friends might be...offensive.