Page 76 of Ghost's Obsession

Ghost states quietly, “Yes ma’am, the man who did this to her got justice served on him today.”

Brittany quips, “I got the satisfaction of clobbering him with that metal chair, so I feel like I gave him a run for his money.”

Her joke lands wrong for me. I can’t help bursting into tears. I ugly cry because I got my friend hurt. I hate to ugly cry. It’s embarrassing to have that horrible, uncontrollable kind of crying where your lungs seize up and your whole body goes warm with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m so sorry. This was all my fault.”

“Stop.” Her voice is suddenly sharp, even through the pain. “Don’t you dare feel guilty about the decisions I made in the heat of the moment.”

“I keep replaying the memory of him throwing you into that glass cabinet over and over again in my head,” I say. “I thought you were dead and it’s all my fault.”

Brittany puts the French fry in her hand back down on her napkin and tells me sternly, “I don’t regret what happened. I do what I want, and I wanted to knock that asshole out for putting his hand on us,” she says angrily. “I’ve always been a fighter, and I always will be. That’s who I am. And if you want to continue hanging around with me, you need to be ready for me to stand up for myself and the people I care about.”

I smother back my tears, nodding. “I get that. I really do.”

Her grandmother doesn’t seem to know what to do with my tears. She perks up when she hears Brittany talking about standing up for herself. “Rock and I are really proud of our granddaughter. I’ve learned that what doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.” She shoots Ghost another meaningful look.

Brittany shifts with a wince, then reaches out with her unbandaged arm and curls her fingers around mine.

“I knew what I was doing. I saw him coming and I had one second to choose, run or fight. I picked fight. Because you’re pregnant. Because you didn’t have a choice. And because you’re my friend.”

I tear up again, even though I’m trying my hardest not to. “The bottom line is you got hurt because of me.”

“I got hurt because of me.” After a short pause, she acknowledges, “Even if I did get hurt because we were together, I’d get hurt for you again,” she says simply.

Hearing that wrecks me all over again. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

She rolls her eyes, “No, of course you don’t. No one does,” she says. “But I’m here anyway.”

Queenie claps her hands and exclaims, “I like the hard right turn this conversation took. I’m glad to see that my Brittany has such a good friend.”

Now that I’m thinking more clearly, I look at her with new eyes. Queenie is a bit of a character. She’s wearing jeans and gold ankle boots and a cheetah-print shirt and leather bustier. Her bag matches her shirt and she’s skinny as a rail. I see a giant bouquet of flowers on the counter behind her, and she’s drinking from a travel mug that says, “Hot Bitches Do It Better.” Queenie is very comfortable in her own skin, and I like that.

“We should throw a jailbreak party when Brittany finally gets discharged. We can roast a pig and play wiffle ball.”

Ghost’s mouth twitches into a smile. “I don’t know for sure, but your old man’s MC is starting to sound like a lot of fun.”

It feels like Queenie is trying to change the subject to something less traumatic, and I appreciate her doing that.

“Queenie,” Brittany groans. “You are making me seriously want to sign out against medical advice.”

Queenie just laughs. “I think you miss your kids. Have you picked a favorite yet?”

Poor Brittany looks absolutely scandalized. “Of course not. All five of them are amazing. Parents aren’t supposed to play favorites.”

“Piff, our youngest was everyone’s favorite. He was born premature. The doctors told us to feed him every two hours, andwe just never stopped. He’s all grown up now and still grazes all day like cattle.”

Brittany bursts out laughing. “I am going to tell him you said that.”

“Everybody knows, Britt. Ain’t no secrets in the Sons of Rage.”

I blink. “Really?”

Queenie just laughs. “We’re a pretty open family, Heather.”

Brittany changes the subject again. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how Silver is working out at your club.”

Ghost cursed under his breath. “That woman turned you over to a cult and now she’s the new star attraction at the Sons of Rage clubhouse. I don’t think that’s the least bit acceptable.”

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