Page 115 of Ghost
“Gunner can be a real asshole sometimes.”
“He really called his sister a whore?” Jingles asked, wincing as he said it.
“Not directly, but close enough.”
What the fuck was he thinking, saying that shit to me? If he wanted a beatdown, I gladly would have given him one. All he had to do was ask.
I spent the morning sitting at the bar, waiting for Melissa and Haizley to come back. Two months ago, when Gunner suggested we all try therapy, we assumed it was because he wanted to fuck the shrink.
We weren’t wrong. But now she was his old lady and we couldn’t deny she was good at what she did. Maybe he wasn’t far off in thinking we all needed a little therapy.
Aspen had come a long way working with Haizley. And Amber was lighter and happier than she’d been in months.
Tabby and Dani sat playing on the floor, while Diesel, Aspen’s dog, watched over them. He might look like he was sleeping, but if any of the guys walked a little too close to the girls, or Aspen herself, he was up and alert in seconds.
I noticed he had taken to watching Danny closely. But he didn’t seem wary of him. We didn’t know what Danny had been through, but getting blown up couldn’t be great for the body or the mind.
The front door opened and there she was. Seeing her here, in the clubhouse, continued to feel like a dream. I often heard people say fate was a vindictive bitch. But fuck if I didn’t do something right to have her smile down on me and bring this woman back into my life.
She looked around the room and locked her eyes on me. The drop of her shoulders had the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Leaving my stool, I swiftly met her across the room.
“What’s wrong, Princess?”
Fear swirled in her eyes as she said, “I got another note.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Melissa
I needed air.
My lungs felt like they were closing in on themselves, making it difficult to breathe. Walking out the front door, I stood on the porch, hands wrapped around the railing, gulping air into my lungs and trying to calm my racing heart.
I knew what this was. When Gunner first left, I had panic attacks often. Being alone for the first time overwhelmed me with all the decisions I was now responsible for, with no one to help me through them.
I remembered the first one. I was so scared, I thought I was having a heart attack. Going to the campus health office, the doctor prescribed me valium. It was a year before I felt like I no longer needed those pills.
I wish I had one now.
A small hand on my back rubbed in circles.
“Breathe, Missy. In and hold.” I did as I was told. Inhaling as much as I could, holding my breath while my best friend counted down for me. “Five... four... three... two... now exhale slowly. Again.”
Three times she walked me through the steps of grounding myself, before I finally remembered my training.
Five things you can see.Green grass, black pavement outside the metal gates, silver and chrome motorcycles lined up in the parking lot, and red Adirondack chairs in the yard.
Four things you can touch.My hands tightened on the wooden railing briefly before letting go and landing on my stomach, feeling the soft fabric of my T-shirt. My fingers tangled into my hair, pulling through the strands before reaching for Haizley’s hand and holding it tight.
Three things you can hear.With my eyes now closed, I concentrated on listening. My breathing was loud in the quiet of the outside. There were no cars, no sounds of traffic to focus on. Instead, there was the rustle of the wind through the trees. The crunch of the boots over rocks as the prospect at the gate walked along the perimeter.
Two things you can smell.Haizley’s perfume. A mixture of coconut and almond. Another scent I couldn’t name, but in my mind was reminiscent of being home in Oklahoma. Something about the air hinting at a coming storm.
One thing you can taste.Bitterness. Resentment. I knew that wasn’t what was meant, but it still had the power to bring me back from the pit of grief that threatened to consume me at the thought of losing Dani.
“Feeling better?”
I nodded, needing just another moment before I could speak. That same bitterness and resentment clogging my throat, but somehow more comforting than what I was feeling when I walked out here.
