Page 77 of Ghost's Obsession

“Damn, Ghost. You must not think very highly of our club if you think we’d let Silver run around doing whatever she wants.”

“What did you do with her?” Brittany asks curiously.

“For starters, I took away all her silver clothing and jewelry. We call her Plain Jane, and none of the brothers will have anything to do with her because of what she did to my granddaughter. If there’s one thing you can say about the Sons of Rage brothers, it’s that they are loyal. She’s got a heavy load of chores for the next year, and then she can try to give being a club girl another try. I think that’s more than generous, considering the offense she committed.”

Brittany nods. “I’m surprised she hasn’t run off by now.”

“Me too,” Queenie replies with a frown.

The next hour blurs a little. Brittany fades in and out because she’s on some pretty heavy-duty painkillers. But before she drifts, she makes me promise something.

“Don’t pull away, okay?” she mumbles, eyelids heavy. “Don’t disappear into guilt and try to tough it out alone. You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

I squeeze her hand. “I promise.” I honestly couldn’t see myself walking off from this amazing found family. They were all too nice and caring.

She nods off to soft snores, her grip finally loosening.

Queenie just sort of takes over the space naturally. At one point, she brushes and braids my hair and makes me sit still while she hums something that sounds like an old fashioned country song slowed down by grief and weariness.

“You remind me of me,” she says eventually. “When I was young and stupid and thought surviving meant being silent.”

I grin at her. “I’m not sure if that was actually a compliment.”

“You’ve got the same kind of steel in your bones. But steel doesn’t mean you can’t bend a little. Especially when it’s just you and the people who love you.”

I close my eyes and let myself breathe, just for a second, as I reflect on her words.

Ghost leaves and then shows back up with coffee sometime later. He has a cup of black coffee in each hand. His jaw is clenched like he’s ready to rip someone in half for not letting him in sooner. The minute his eyes land on me, his whole face softens.

He doesn’t ask questions or intrude on our conversation. He just comes to my side, sets the coffees down, and tucks me under his arm. I melt into him because he’s warm and reassuring.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers again. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you this time.”

He says that with such conviction that I honestly believe him. He would have kept me safe this time if only I had listened when he said to stay put, I remind myself.

***

At some point, Ghost gets a message from Patch. Ghost tells me, “Doc ordered a sonogram to make sure everything’s okay with the baby. He says we need to go ahead and get it done immediately. He’ll review the report and let us know if anything unusual shows up.”

I crane my head to look at his phone. “Did he say where we’re supposed to go?”

“Third floor, west wing. They have a whole office up there.”

“Best get it over with,” Queenie tells me. “And then go home and get some rest. Brittany likely won’t wake up again until the morning with all those painkillers they gave her.”

I hug her and we say our goodbyes before heading up to the sonogram unit. “Thanks, Queenie. Call me if you need anything.”

“My boys will get anything me and Brittany need. Tusk is coming later once he’s dropped off the kids at their grandparents. You go on now. She’s got her family minding her now.”

They pull me into the exam room the second I give them my name, looking curiously at the bandage on my neck, where Grime nicked me with his knife.

Ghost is right there, refusing to leave my side.

They ask me a bunch of questions as I lie on a narrow table under dimmed lights. They tug up my shirt just enough for the tech to work the ultrasound wand across my stomach. There’s a monitor beside me — black and white fuzz, grainy images move across it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing, but I justkeep staring. I guess I’m hoping to capture a glimpse of my baby in that grainy mess. I realize that now Carnage is gone, the baby is mine, and mine alone.

Or at least mine to decide who I want to be his or her father.

Ghost holds my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. Having him being here, so close and tender, settles something deep in my chest. When I look up at him, there’s this flicker of emotion, something I can’t quite name. I get the distinct feeling that he’s holding himself together by sheer strength of will alone. I remind myself that we’ve both been through a trauma, not just me.

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