Page 86 of Ghost

“Yeah?”

“Since Dylan is no longer out there looking for us, do you think I could have my old name back?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

“And what about Toby? Do you think he could start back to school?”

“I’ll have to check with Preacher, but it should be okay.”

“Great.” I slipped my arms around his neck. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, babe. Don’t you doubt that for a second.”

Maybe we were both the lucky ones. Maybe that was what love is all about. I couldn’t say for sure. All I knew was that I was happy—really happy, something I never thought I’d be, and I owed it all to him.

Epilogue

Ghost

Six months later...

When I walked in, Casey was sitting at the counter, flipping through an old cookbook. I came up behind her and gave her back a quick scratch. “Whatcha doing?”

“Whoa, wait a minute.” She arched her back with a grimace. “You hit a spot. You need to do it again.”

“What?”

“Get to scratching.” She reached back over her shoulder, trying to reach the spot herself. “It’s right here.”

I reached up and started scratching away. “That better?”

“That’s a tickle. Not a scratch.”

“A tickle? If I scratch any harder, I’m gonna draw blood.”

“Do it, Sutton.”

“Fine,” I grumbled as I dug in a little firmer.

“Okay, now move to the left.”

I did as she said, but it wasn’t enough. “Down some... to the right just a little.... Oh, good grief!”

She jumped up and grabbed a spatula from the drawer, raking it across her shoulders. Wounded, I threw my hands up and asked, “What?”

“How is it possible that a man with a hand the size of yours can’t do any better than that?”

“I don’t know what to tell ya, babe. I'm pretty sure I got it.”

She continued rubbing the spatula across her back as she sassed, “I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”

“I tried.”

A mischievous smirk slipped across her face as she teased, “Thank God you don’t have that problem in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, that’s an itch I can handle. Speaking of which...”

I started towards her, but she quickly stepped back and pointed the spatula at me. “Don’t even think about it.”

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