Page 29 of Static

"Thank you, but...you smell like alcohol."

"It was only two beers. I'm fine." There were nerves in her eyes. Trent had been coked out of his mind when he'd gone after her and the children. I knew, just by the look on her face most days, that the whole night haunted her. She never said a word when any of us drank, and she still did herself, but it couldn't be easy to be around inebriated men after what happened.

Her eight-year-old son—at the time—had nearly shot his own father, trying to rescue his mom and Jordan. I was proud as fuck of him for that, but I was even more grateful that Ricochet had gotten there in time to keep Sean from having to pull that trigger. Sean and Grace were leaving the memories behind faster than their mother was, and I was glad for that. I just wished there was some way to help Gwen.

"I appreciate that, but Ricochet already offered." She pointed to where her brother was coming in from outside.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Hey, Static." Her brother watched me with shrewd eyes as he stopped next to us.

"Ricochet. How's it going?"

"Good, good." He looked at his sister. "You ready?"

Something passed between the twins. I'd seen the non-verbal communication often enough between Lock and Idaho to know when it was happening. Something was going on and they weren't saying what. I was determined to figure it out, but not right now. "We'll talk later," I told Gwen, letting her know in no uncertain terms that we still needed to talk about what had happened between us before the kids got sick.

She gave me a shaky smile and walked away with her brother. Sighing, I turned and went back into the room where the girls and the others were. It was time to kick some ass at cards. I'd been holding back, and now I knew what tricks the girls had learned to give them a leg up. I wasn't about to lose all my money to some pre-adolescents.

CHAPTER 12

Gwen

"Idon't know if I can do this," I admitted. Even to myself, my voice sounded small and shaky.

"Hey."

I looked over at my brother. He was sitting behind the steering wheel, watching me with worried eyes. "This is supposed to help, not hurt. You know?" He searched my face. "If you're not ready, we'll do it another time, Gwenny."

I smiled at his use of my childhood nickname. My parents had given it to me and it was a reminder of them. "We should go see Aunt Sara soon." She'd taken us in after our parents died and had done her best to raise two traumatized kids. She'd done a fantastic job, and really, we were the people we were thanks to her.

"After this is over," he promised.

Aunt Sara had moved to Montana a few years ago. We spoke to her often and we had a permanent invitation to come visit the little ranch she bought. The kids would love it. Blowing out a breath, I closed my eyes. You can do this. You don't have to even talk if you don't want to. Aunt Sara had made us go to therapy when we were kids. Your parents getting killed in a car crash tended to be devastating and neither of us were coping well. It took some time, but we worked through our issues. Now here we were again, back in therapy.

"Gwen-"

"I'm going," I told him, voice firm, more for myself than him.

"Want me to come in? Wait in the lobby?"

Smiling over at him, I squeezed his forearm. "That's okay. I've got this." I looked around the parking lot. It wasn't very busy. "Or maybe it would be safer..."

"Don't worry about me," he said with a shake of his head. "You always worry about everyone but yourself. Go."

I made the quick walk inside, smiled at the receptionist as I checked in, and sat, still as a statue as I waited. Playing the perfect part. It was what I'd been doing since the attack. I didn't want anyone to worry about me. I couldn't bear to inconvenience anyone. But slowly I was sinking and I wasn't sure how to claw my way back up.

"Gwen? Come on back."

Blowing out a breath, I followed the receptionist down a short hallway, past her desk and into a large room. A blonde woman in a pantsuit stood and held out her hand for me to shake. She was older, maybe in her fifties. I wasn't sure why that made me relax. It was more likely her serene vibe that was setting me at ease. This wasn't a ball buster who was going to go after my insecurities as though they were enemies to defeat. Her hand was soft, almost delicate. She was...matronly. The knot in my chest eased the tiniest bit as I sat on a couch across from her chair.

"I'm Trina Donaldson," she said, introducing herself. "It's so nice to meet you, Gwen. Your brother has told me so much about you."

My brows rose and I hesitated before speaking. "It's nice to meet you, too... Gage has talked about me?"

She nodded. "Jordan, as well." There was empathy in her eyes. "They've both recounted their versions of what happened that night," she explained. "And while I can't go over exactly what was said, I can tell you that they're both very worried about you. I'm so glad you've come to see me."

I swallowed hard. Don't lose it. Don't lose it.

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