Oh, and Taco, Mina’s cat.
“You know, I’m not sure any of the club would ever talk about you to anyone but among themselves. It wouldn’t kill you to tell them that you’re alive.”
“No,” I agreed. “But knowing it might get them killed and that is not a risk I’m willing to take.”
And that was that.
***
Day seven of Mina and Sienna being in Mooresville
I couldn’t do this. I really, really couldn’t do this.
“Shit,” I grunted and walked up the driveway.
“Can I help?”
Mina jumped a foot and whirled like a startled cat, instantly on guard. Her eyes were wild, and her entirely too short hair spun spectacularly around her head as if she’d been in a commercial trying to sell a certain brand of shampoo that was for luxurious, sleek hair.
The cat that we’d bought together, the one that I knew didn’t like me—although dislike was too mild a word for what this cat felt for me—hissed and growled, causing us both to turn our heads and stare at the evil shit.
“Wow,” Mina said. “She never hisses and growls like that at anybody.”
I saw her pause as the memories hit, and I barely resisted the urge to back away.
Oh, this was not good either.
“She used to hiss at my husband like that,” Mina said, a slow smile curving over her lips. “When we got her, Taco used to love to lay on my husband’s chest.” She grinned at me, not asking why the hell I’d walked up her driveway when I didn’t even live on the street. “Then, one day, the cat grew up enough and decided that she no longer liked my husband. He hadn’t hurt her or bothered her in any way, she just decided one day that she hated him and that was that.”
That was all true.
I’d kind of liked the cat. In fact, I had even thought that I had bonded with that cat, dammit!
Then, one day, she just up and decided that I was no longer an acceptable human being and showed her displeasure with me by hissing and spitting at me any time I came too close for her comfort.
Like right now, for instance. I was presently within a ten-foot radius of Mina, and the cat was protecting her owner like a dog would have done.
“And now she’s doing that to you. How odd.” She studied me for a long moment. “Why are you here?”
That was the thousand-dollar question. Why the hell was I here? I shouldn’t be here. I damn sure shouldn’t be in her driveway, talking to her.
The only good thing was that it was dark so she couldn’t see the color of my eyes due to the shadows.
“I live down the street,” I lied. In actuality, I lived in the camper that was right here on this same property that she was on. It was far enough away, though, that it seemed like it was the next property over, but it wasn’t. “I saw you struggling with the grill and thought that I’d offer to help.”
Her lips pursed.
“My husband used to have a problem with me manning the grill, too,” she murmured. Those watchful eyes were still scrutinizing me. “I can do it, though.”
I doubted that.
The reason I had a problem with her using the grill was because she didn’t know what in the hell she was doing. And she proved that moments later by squirting about half the bottle of lighter fluid onto the grill and holding out a match.
“You don’t have the charcoal on there,” I told her. “That is what you’re supposed to saturate with the lighter fluid.”
She looked at me over her shoulder.
“I don’t have any charcoal.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Then how did you expect to light this grill and keep it lit?” I questioned, barely keeping the exasperation out of my voice. “Or were you just in the mood to light a fire?”
I stared pointedly at the hamburger patties that were incredibly way too fat, and needed to be smashed down at least an inch, knowing damn well and good that she didn’t intend to just light a fire.
“You sound like my husband,” she said, and the buzz of electricity between us was enough to cause me to groan. On the inside, at least. On the outside, I was calm, cool and collected.
“Maybe your husband just knew his shit,” I suggested mildly. “I think there’s a bag of charcoal at my place. Give me a minute to run down there. Take those inside and smash them down until they’re about an inch thick. Oh, and make sure you wash your hands when you’re done.”
I could’ve kicked myself at that last comment.
That’d been something else I used to say to her.
She’d gone into nursing school, and her hand washing habits had gone from good to excellent. If we went to a store and she touched a cart, she washed her hands. If we went to dinner, and she touched a menu, she washed her hands after. If she had to shake someone’s hand, she washed her hands after.
Being a nurse had clued her in to the diseases that were a daily part of the world that she lived in. The things that could cause her harm if she didn’t take the necessary hygiene steps to prevent them.
Germs also became a constant battle. I, of course, teased her mercilessly about it back then, and apparently, it was something I continued to do to her now.
Shit.
I’d called Sienna ‘Sugar Girl’ the other day, and now I was teasing my wife about things that the old me—the dead me—used to tease her about.
Son of a bitch, I really needed to get the fuck away from here, or she was going to figure it out.
I could already see the wheels turning in her head.
“I can cook these inside,” she murmured. “On the griddle.”
That was true. She could.
But I didn’t want her to go quite yet.
That’s not what I said, though.
“That’s true. You could,” I agreed amicably.
She eyed me.
I could see those wheels turning, and I had to resist the urge to leave. Again.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?”
I looked at all the light in the house, and I shook my head.
“No.”
Her mouth pursed. “Then I think I’ll cook them on the griddle. Goodnight, Mr. Ghost.”
With that, she walked inside, leaving the grill, and the puddle of lighter fluid, in the middle of the driveway.
It was only after I’d put it all away and had walked back to my trailer, that I realized this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
I wanted to stomp into my house, gather my woman up in my arms, and crush her to me while I held her enough to start making up for the six years’ worth of holding her and cuddling that I’d missed out on since I had ‘died.’
“Dammit. Damn. Damn,” I grumbled. Then fell back on the shitty, cold bed and closed my eyes.
I needed to stop.
Really. I needed to.
But I didn’t.
And within two weeks, she would have all the evidence she needed.
Chapter 15
Give up carbs? Over my bread body.
-Meme
Mina
“Sienna,” I called. “Are you ready to go to camp?”
I’d signed Sienna up for a week-long camp called ‘Police Explorers’ that was put on by the local police department. Though, she had been the one to request to go. She’d asked me to do something, anything, but the daycare that I’d planned to put her into while I worked, and Aaron, one of the Dixie Wardens in this chapter, had suggested the summer camp.
One was put on each week for four weeks by a different officer at the department, and they had no problem, whatsoever, if a child attended all of them as long as she was picked up by the time the camp let out.
At first, that had been a problem for me since I didn’t get off of work until six, and the camp ended at four, but I’d then been informed by the ladies of the club that she would go home with one of them for the two hours it took me to get off of work, and that I cou
ld pick her up there.
So that was what I’d done, and had been doing for the last two weeks.
Today, Sienna was being taken home by Aaron, though, since he was the one putting on the camp with his K-9 officer, Tank.
“Yeah, Mom. Does this look okay?”
I turned to see her dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and tennis shoes.
“Yes,” I informed her. “Looks perfect. Why?”
She looked down at her pants. “Someone said that they were too tight yesterday, and that I was showing off my butt.”
My brows furrowed. “Who said that?”
“Another boy in the camp with me,” she answered.
I growled under my breath.
“Well, how about next time, you tell Aaron that someone is bothering you, and he will take care of it?” I suggested. “Your pants aren’t too tight. They’re jeans, they’re supposed to be snug. Now, are you ready?”
She nodded her head and we walked out the door. I had my nursing bag in one hand, the one that held my stethoscope, blood pressure cuff and other shit that I needed on a daily basis, and my keys in the other while I tried to juggle locking the door without dropping either bag.
Sienna waited patiently for me to lock it, and then walked to the car where she waited for me to unlock it.
“He’s mowing our yard again.”
My head whipped around at the sudden sound of a lawn mower running down the side of the yard, and I blinked when I saw Ghost there, covered in sweat, mowing the lawn.
He’d mowed the lawn before, of course, but that time I’d only caught him finishing up. It’d never occurred that he would mow the entire yard, which was a half an acre big, with a push mower.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“We’re going to be late.”
I rolled my eyes and walked to the car as I unlocked it.
“He looks hot,” Sienna said as I settled into the car.
I agreed. He did look hot. Though it wasn’t hard to get hot when it was almost ninety degrees at eight o’clock in the morning.
“Why do you think he’s mowing the lawn with a shirt on? I saw the guy across the street mowing the lawn, but he had his shirt off.”
I didn’t know the answer to Sienna’s question.
“I don’t know, baby,” I offered. “Maybe he wants to wear it.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Let’s go.”
We went, but not far.
“Shoot!” she cried out suddenly. “I forgot my papers that I was supposed to do for homework!”
I looked at the clock.
It was fifteen until eight, meaning that I would have fifteen minutes exactly to get her back home, get the papers, drop her off, and then get to work on time.
“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, and then turned around.
***
Ghost
It would be my baby girl that broke the camel’s back.
The moment that I saw her car leave, I shucked the shirt.
It was way too fuckin’ hot already, but adding a shirt to the mix made it nearly unbearable, and it was barely eight in the morning. The heat index projected that it’d feel upwards of a hundred and ten by midafternoon.
But I wasn’t going to expose myself to the woman, because it wouldn’t take her but five seconds to see my naked chest and know exactly who I was.
See, I had a very distinctive tattoo. One that Mina knew I had. One that she’d studied up close and personal.
One that was only half there now due to the burns and would be readily visible if my shirt was not on.
The day that I’d become a Dixie Warden, I’d gotten a tattoo of the wraith-like woman that was on the back of The Dixie Wardens cut. It took up half my right side and was beautiful. Was being the operative word.
Beneath that tattoo, I’d gotten another tattoo that was Mina’s. It wasn’t anything too over the top. It was a skeletal hand – depicting me – holding onto a strand of curls – for Mina – in a tight grip that signified I was never letting go. In a swirling cursive font and hidden in the hair, the word ‘Mina’ was entwined through multiple strands of hair.
But during my brush with death, I had suffered severe burns that had melted away half of not only my club tattoo, but also my tattoo for Mina. The burns healed in a curve around my shoulder blade that formed a sort of C shape and cut off the left half of the club tattoo into something unrecognizable, and leaving the curly hair of the Mina tattoo, which made it look like the wraith lady’s face and hair were melting off.
Overall, it was a pretty cool effect, but the loss of Mina’s tattoo, along with my club’s tattoo, left a hole in my soul that felt like it would never mend.
But, to those who knew me, they knew what those tattoos were once. That’d been how I’d been able to convince Silas of exactly who I was.
Sighing long and loud, I turned the corner of my house—now Mina’s house—and started walking away from the driveway and the entrance to the street.
I’d just reached the end of the yard and had maneuvered the mower back around to go back the way I’d just came, when I stopped dead in my tracks.
My hands let go of the lever that kept the mower running, and I stared in shock at Mina’s car that was in the middle of the street, still running.
Where was Mina?
She was standing in the middle of the street, her hands falling limply at her sides, with tears running uncontrollably down her cheeks.
She knew.
I knew she knew.
There was no doubt now that she knew exactly what was going on. Who I was. Who I once was.
I saw the moment she compartmentalized it. Saw the moment that she decided that she couldn’t do it.
She walked into the house, came back out moments later, still crying might I add, and walked back to her car. All the while I watched her, a sick knot in my stomach that was on the verge of pain.
She got into her car, stared at me for a few more long moments, and then backed down the road, turned it sharply like she was in a hurry to leave, and peeled out before speeding down the road.
I watched her go, knowing that everything had changed.
Everything.
Chapter 16
Anybody that doesn’t agree with leggings being pants can physically fight me. And I will win because I have superior range of motion.
-Meme
Ghost
I didn’t bother to shower. Didn’t bother to change. Instead, I rode after her, even going as far as to forget my cut, which I never forgot.
I caught up to her at the police station where she dropped Sienna off with the papers that she’d taken from the house—the ones that had brought her back when she was supposed to be at work.
Then, I followed her, not to her work, but to a spot that I hadn’t realized she’d known existed.
When I pulled up, she was already out of the car, and walking down the long, overgrown path, deeper and deeper into the woods until we came to a house.
“I Googled this place,” she said softly. “I had suspicions.”
I grunted.
“They told me your last name was Lane. Ghost Lane.” She laughed, but there wasn’t a single ounce of humor in her voice. “I Googled property here, and found this place.”
I looked at the house. It was a fixer-upper that really needed some attention.
The reason I’d bought it?
Because it was the very house that Mina and I had dreamed about.
At night, we’d take walks together and tell each other our hopes and dreams.
***
“When we have the money, I want a house with a wraparound porch.” Mina looked up at me. “I want it to be old. Not new. I want it to have those old creaks and groans as you walk through the house. I want it to have a root cellar and for it to need some work to fix it up.” She smiled. “I want to pull up the carpet with you and find out that there’s beautiful hardwood
floors underneath.”
She smiled at me, and I squeezed her hand lightly.
She let go of my hand and reached for it.
Knowing what she wanted, I let her guide my hand to her belly, and I grinned when I felt our baby inside of her, likely doing somersaults.
“That feels so weird,” I said as I pushed down. “Is that her head or her ass?”
She snickered.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I can never tell.”
I felt something sharp and pointy. “That has to be an elbow.”
She shrugged. “Heels and elbows feel a lot alike. The doctor can always tell me where and what she’s doing inside of me, and I’m all over here trying to decide if what I’m feeling is her head or her butt.”
I grinned.
“Back to this house you want,” I said. “I think we could afford an old place, but it won’t have everything you want on it.”
She pursed her lips. “I want the wraparound porch to overlook a pond or a lake.”
I raised my brows at her. “That, I really can’t afford.”
She shrugged. “We can put that in after, but I bet it would look way better if it were there already.”
It would.
I nodded.
“What else?”
“I want it to have those glass door knobs that old houses have, and skeleton keys that go to each door, even the attic.”
I grinned.
“And a big red barn that looks older than the house.”
I just smiled. Anything that Mina wanted, Mina got.
***
She walked inside, and didn’t stop until she was standing in the middle of the living room.
I’d done nothing to the place since I’d bought it over four years ago. The only thing I’d done was maintain it as it was, but made zero changes to it.
This was our dream. This was the house that we’d wanted to fix up together, and I would be damned if I did anything to it without her.
“I made a promise to myself a long time ago,” she said, her voice heavy with grief. “To God. To anyone that would listen.”
I swallowed thickly, not sure that I wanted to hear what she had to say.
Beard Up Page 9
