Page 51 of Four Times Forever

Although, this was his bed. I knew this wasn't his childhood bed because his parents had settled in Florida in recent years, but I wondered if I was the only woman who had ever slept in it. Okay, now I was just keeping myself awake on purpose. The thought of being in his bed should have comforted me and yet, here I was, jumping out of it like it stung and roaming the room like a ghost in the night. Like Terry and that other guy's ghosts. I wondered if they'd caught the guys who killed them. Probably someone they promised some of the blackmail money to. Or people they owed.

No, mom. We're not going there.

I shut down the follow-up thoughts before they even began and made my way to the small adjoined bathroom. There was some of Eric's cologne on the modest counter. His unopened bars of soap behind the mirror. His towels, folded on the rack. I picked them up and sniffed them. They were clean. His mother's housekeeper must have washed them. Feeling kind of sticky anyway from our romp in the sand, I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower. Getting up was a good idea, I smiled to myself as the lukewarm water shot out of the showerhead. I caught a fright, sure, but it was a good distraction from my thoughts and the scent of Eric made me smile.

When I was done, I spritzed some of his cologne, sprayed on some of his deodorant and moved over to his closet for an oversized T-shirt. I came across a jar of surf wax and wondered whether or not he'd teach me how to surf. That made me grin. Me? Surf. I could just about manage to do a few laps in the pool. But it would be fun, trying new things with him. New things with them. I could do that now.

See, that's what I should have been focusing on. The good stuff. Not all these doubts, these fears, ghosts, my mother's haunting voice— No, things would be good. They were good. Being here and having a chance to be a part of an actual family for once, proved that. Things could only get better from here. As I threw on one of his T-shirts and boxers, I was wrapped up in the warmth and scent of him, convinced that I might find a way to fall asleep tonight.

That was until I was awoken by my own screams of bloody murder and the bedroom door banging open. The light flashed on and I was covered in sweat. The loudest thing in the room was the pounding of my heart.

Mrs. Thornbread looked as if she'd seen a ghost and I turned around to look to see if it was the same ghosts haunting me.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Her medical aid looked at me.

Mrs. Fletcher pulled away from her aid's side and hurried over to the window. My chest was tightening and my head was spinning, but I could still see under the lamp light the amount of distress I was causing her.

"Did someone come in? Is that it?" She slid open the window and with strained eyes looked back at us, impatience carving lines around her mouth.

"I—uh." I gulped against my closing throat.

"What?! Speak!" she yelled.

The medical aid rushed over to her and took care not to restrain her. "Let's all just take a breath and let Ms. Thornbread speak," she suggested.

My eyes stung from the guilt and shame holding me captive, and I shattered. "It's the nightmares. I get nightmares," I confessed, burying my chin into my neck, unable to bring myself to witness the distress I'd caused.

Labored breathing soon settled into silence. It could've just been me retreating into my mental escape and zoning out the sounds around me. The mattress sank, and I startled, looking up to find Mrs. Fletcher's eyes full of emotion. Her medical aid gave her a pill and a water bottle, which I guessed she just kept on her just in case. Or she might have left the room during the time I'd closed my ears and locked my mind.

Mrs. Fletcher's hands were shaking when they reached out to stroke my foot under the covers.

"I get nightmares too," she confessed before looking back at her medical aid and then at me. "What if I slept here with you and we can help keep each other's nightmares away?"

My heart wowed me with the new rhythm that had been awakened deep in my chest. My nod came immediately, and a small smile lit up her face.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" the medical aid asked Mrs. Fletcher, and I couldn't help but think the question was also directed at me. I understood the risks. She could be unpredictable. But right then, I didn't have my men next to me, and I couldn't think of anything more terrifying than my nightmares.

Mrs. Fletcher and I nodded.

"Okay, I'll keep my ears open and I'll be right next door if you need me," she promised before taking care of Mrs. Fletcher's needs for the night and closing the door behind her.

When Mrs. Fletcher climbed into the bed and wrapped her arms around me, I was warmed by a maternal comfort I'd never known. Before I knew it, I was sound asleep.

Chapter 40

Ryan

Where the fuck was I? I hadn't stopped walking since I left the house. Except for the rumble of engines, cicadas, nearby music from the surrounding restaurants and the occasional horn honk, I'd scarcely encountered anyone else. It had been nice, me and my best friends—another case of beer. A car shot past earlier as I was crossing the street, playing "Party In The USA" by Miley Cyrus and now it was stuck in my head. I'd been humming it non-stop and every time it got to that hip line, I wiggled them and giggled. I couldn't keep my legs together; they both wanted to go in different directions, but it was fine. I was in no rush to get back. My phone started ringing again. It was Eric. Before it was Ethan. And Matt called, like, ten times. I let it ring as I sang along to the melody.

Pausing beneath a tree on the sidewalk, I did take a rest though. It would have been nice if I could shut my eyes for a couple of minutes. I'd almost forgotten about the threat hanging over my head. Almost. What was left of my memory, after trying to obliterate it with alcohol, was a resigned acceptance of whatever was fated to happen. What I'm trying to say is that if I was run over by a car right then, it wouldn't have phased me in the slightest. Well, I'd most likely be dead anyway. So, if a certain mob family decided to have my head, I was so happily drunk, I might have handed it to them.

At least, that's what I was thinking before the sound of the police sirens growing louder. The seizing of my heart and breath told me the opposite, that if I was caught, then my life would be ruined. As if it wasn't already. But it wasn't just my life on the line. If they had reason to suspect me, they had reason to suspect the other guys, didn't they? And if I got arrested for the murder of those two men, the mob family would soon get wind of it. Okay, I took it back. I wasn't ready to get caught. Neither by the police nor the mob.

My heart thumped against my bones like a punishment as I used the thick trunk of the tree to shield my body. The louder the sirens got, the more I was convinced that it was me they were looking for. I hunkered down to the ground and as much as it didn't make any sense, I stopped my breath so that it wouldn't be detected.

"Please, stop!" A heavy bass voice groaned.

There was a park across the street and the voice came from behind its walls. The approaching siren was loud enough to drown it out though. I just had to wait until the cop car passed and I could check it out.

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