At a table near the back, Ghost had just laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was low and rough, like it had to be dragged out of him, but it was real.

Then the pub door opened.

A woman stepped inside, a man trailing just behind her. The conversation around the room faltered. Not all at once, but in ripples, like a stone dropped into still water.

Ghost went rigid.

His glass stopped halfway to his mouth. His eyes locked on her for a long, stretched second. Then he looked away.

You knew him. Ghost didn't look away from things he wanted to face. He didn't flinch. But his jaw was tight, and beneath the table, his hand curled into a fist.

You noticed before the others did.