Page 4 of Eternally Ginger

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Ginger

After scooping all of Ghoul’s and my clothing out of the dryer and into my arms, I kicked the dryer door closed. Living together in this apartment hadn’t been at all as bad as it could have been. Of course, we still had kinks to work out, but they would probably always be present between us. We were too different, or maybe it was because we were too much alike to get along all of the time. Truthfully, I didn’t know, nor did I really care. Ghoul had given me a place to stay with him at the clubhouse when I was too much of a chicken to face Grams. I still hadn’t told her the truth about Dad, and I may never. It made me an awful granddaughter for not telling her, but I was also protecting her by doing so. Even though I may not have any children, I didn’t need them to decide to keep this from her. No way she wanted to hear her son abducted and trafficked countless little girls and boys. Realistically, no one was ever happy to get bad news unless it was someone else’s.

My stomach churned at the thought, and my hands jetted forward to catch my body, keeping my face from smacking the floor. Various pieces of clothing flung out of my grasp and into the air, landing all over the living room. My head hung, trapped in hyper-focus mode on the images my imagination pieced together of his crimes. To this day, it was still hard to believe the man who took so much care and pride into tucking me into bed beneath a pink unicorn blanket was capable of such vile malevolence.

Ghoul was the glue that held my broken pieces together, and I trusted him without hesitance. Yet, had I not seen my Dad’s case file, I didn’t know if I would have believed him completely about what Dad had done. The heart and mind often disagreed when it came to someone you loved. Hearing the words pass through Ghoul’s lips and float into my body was enough to convince my mind they were true.

However, my heart was stubborn. The amount of logic pumped into its four chambers was useless; a person’s heart was a visual learner, so-to-speak. At least mine was. Before Agent McFaye handed me the beige folder stuffed with countless awful photographs and more than thirty years of undeniable proof, I was in denial. Yet, each time my fingers pulled another piece of evidence from it, my heart begged to stop beating before I removed the next. It didn’t, though. Regardless of how much it longed for death, it refused to give in to its desires. I hated my body for not letting me die that day, but I’d slowly come to terms with it all. Without Ghoul, it would have been impossible to keep moving forward—that fact alone was astounding in and of itself. The man who murdered my father was the only person on the planet who brought me comfort.

The familiar ache of nauseating sickness rose in my throat as I dry-heaved. When I first learned the truth, on the exterior, I handled it well, and as far as anyone else was aware, I still was. That, however, was not the absolute truth. On most days, I was as strong as ever, but sometimes, when I was alone, it was all a little too much to carry. There was only so much room inside a person’s body for ugliness; eventually, all that hate had to go somewhere. For me, this was it. Today was a good day, though. I hadn’t vomited on our clean clothes, so this was a win.

Since I was a little girl running around Grams’ house, I constantly reminded myself of something: It was okay to be mad at the right people. The thing was, I found it harder each day to separate myself from that definition. Things used to be so simple to pick apart and dissect when I was younger. Of course, that was when I was naïve and believed everyone’s mommy and daddy loved them, but that wasn’t the biggest lie I’d stupidly believed. Oh, no. The biggest one I believed by far was that any child was safe when they were with my mom and dad. My thoughts seeped back to Isabelle Coatney, who I knew as Meghan. If I’d only listened to her, maybe she would still be alive today. I may not have been the one who abducted her, but once she escaped from Dad, I single-handedly reunited her with her captor. I blamed myself for her death. There was no getting around it.

“You okay, Ginger?” Ghoul cleared his throat, walking into the room, and knelt beside me. I nodded, not wanting to risk my luck by talking, afraid I might actually puke. I needed a minute to regain my composure.

He sucked on his bottom lip for a second before releasing it with a pop. “Then what are our laundry and my old lady doing on the floor?” His eyelids narrowed with suspicion.

I was lying to both of us and doing a terrible job of it, too. Thing was, I was never the best at finding a healthy outlet for my problems—no one could deny that—my current living conditions were a prime example of it. Ghoul, my boyfriend, was the man who killed my father, and while that should disturb me, it did the opposite. I felt safe when I was with him. He didn’t think I knew where he disappeared to every couple of days, and I didn’t entirely, but I had a fairly good idea thanks to the newest prospects, Sledgehammer and Sleeper. I overheard them talking about helping Ghoul and their brother, Hawk, who had traveled in from Ankeny, Louisiana, to dispose of the body of a child abuser. I didn’t know for sure, but I figured it had something to do with what my dad was engaged in before he died. I hadn’t asked because, honestly, I didn’t want to know.

“Well, physically, I am.” I offer the tiniest of apologetic smiles, looking into his eyes.

“That makes two of us, then.” He smiled, reaching his hand out to me as he stands. The time I’d spent getting to know Ghoul better had been a very eye-opening experience for me. His compassionate side was the part that shocked me the most. He wasn’t at all the monster I had dreamed him up to be. I guess that was debatable, depending on who you were and/or asked.

“Nobody is perfect, Ginger,” he reminded me, pulling me into his strong arms. I didn’t think I would ever get enough of this man. We hadn’t said we loved one another in so many words, but it was without question true. He helped me find strength when I had forgotten I had any. His lips pressed against my forehead, and soon after, his body shook silently.

My eyebrow arched in confusion as my palms flattened onto his chest, pushing against his defined muscles to get a better view of his face. “What’s so funny?” I asked when an audible chuckle passed through his lips, my eyes scanning the room for something hilarious enough for him to laugh. He nodded toward the lamp sitting on the table off to the side of the couch and lost it.

“Trying out a new way to dry your granny panties?” he barely managed to say before losing it again. He bent forward, wrapping his arms around his waist, trying to catch his breath. My skin burned with embarrassment, and a loud chuckle bubbled out of my body. Seeing such a brute of a man in hysterics made it hard not to smile.

“It’s laundry day,” I defensively replied, darting around him and stuffing the blue and white polka-dotted briefs into the back pocket of my jeans.

“Clearly. I didn’t even know those hideous things existed.” He composed himself a little and straightened his posture.

“They’re comfortable,” I playfully argued as I pressed my lips together into a thin line.

“Good thing. Those things are huge. Bet they’re longer than Sledgehammer’s cock.” He snorted, reaching his arm around me, and yanked the panties free, pulling the sides outward for a visual. “See.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” I momentarily stuck out my tongue and then jumped up and down, trying to snatch the underwear from him. He wasn’t wrong, though. Sledge was blessed unbelievably in length, and he was not a bit shy to prove how he got his road name.

“Ginger, don’t stick your tongue out unless you plan to use it,” he warned, his ice-blue eyes burning with lust, and a playful smirk pulled his lips together. My body hung on his every movement, hungry for his touch. The tips of his rough fingers slid under the edge of my shirt, chilling my stomach as he moved them painstakingly slow around to my sides. He was quick to wrap the pair of panties behind my back, just above my hips, and jerked me against him.

A squeal of excitement fell from my mouth, and I craved more of his touch. “Make me,” I dared him, licking my lips.

He growled, and with that single noise, every fiber within me shook with desire. His mouth caught the tip of my tongue before I could retract it, not that I was trying all that hard to avoid this situation. I wasn’t at all. His tongue surrounded mine, and he sucked, his teeth barely raking behind as he pulled away. The edge of his teeth found my neckline, and I lived for the pain while his hot breath shocked my unsuspecting skin.

“You asked for this.” He grinned against my shoulder and gently nipped it.

My head nodded ever so slightly, and I bit down onto my fingertip playfully, “Oh no. Someone, please help me!”

“You’re mine,” he possessively said. His eyes momentarily closed, and he breathed out heavily. I knew exactly what I was doing. He thought he had me where he wanted me, but it was the opposite. Our first time together was the best and worst sex I had ever had. I hated how much my body reacted to his, but now, it was the greatest experience ever.

I clinched my mouth tightly, knowing what I was about to do was going to piss him off. My shoulders rose and fell, and it was my turn to silently laugh.

“Did you just…” The panties dropped to the floor instantly, and his hand scrubbed his mouth and flowed down the length of his beard. “I know you did not fucking shrug,” he snarled, pinning me against the wall with his body. “Did you?”

“What if I did?”

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