Page 12 of All Our Ghosts

Cole stands up, glancing over at Quinn. “Shit, uhm...” He looks around for a moment, hands on his hips. I dig in my bag, pulling out my keys and holding them out to Quinn. He glances over at Cole who nods, like Quinn was waiting for permission to take them. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“No problem.” I smile, sitting down on one of the chairs.

He glances over at me before going back to the stacks of paper. A part of me cringes every time he swears under his breath, shoving papers aside, clearly frustrated with whatever it is he’s trying to find.I have some experience managing an office, and the lack of organization in this room digs at my obsessive compulsiveness to keep things orderly.

“You need some help?” I ask before I even have time to realize my mouth has started to move.

“Huh? Oh–” He chuckles, carding his fingers through his hair. “The woman who used to run the office passed about a month ago. It’s been hell in here since.”

I wince, “I’m sorry…”

Cole lets out another sigh, shaking his head. “It’s–” he pauses, “thanks.” He stands staring at the empty chair for a moment before he shakes himself loose of whatever memories he got lost in. “Uhm–Help yourself to the coffee and tea. It might be a bit.” I nod, getting comfortable in the chair as he heads back outside.

HOLDEN

The water from my shower stings against my tanned skin. I don’t remember the last time I was actually fully awake enough to enjoy a shower. Today still isn’t that day, and while my guilt drowns in the alcohol, I remember why I pray it knocks me on my ass. These days I’m just trying to find something to keep me distracted from the club, from Cole, and the ghost of my sister that haunts the compound.

Whiskey does that for me. And Layla. She keeps me company when the whiskey fails to do its job, and lately, it's been happening more and more that I find a brief solace in her. She doesn’t ask questions or glare at me every time I pick up the bottle.

Reaching up, I turn off the water, not remembering how or why my knuckles have become bruised and swollen. My body bumps into the edges of the small shower, twisting and turning to make it out of the small trailer bathroom. I could just shower in the house, but since Becca’s been gone, I haven’t been inside. Cole told me buying a trailer and parking it on her front lawn was ridiculous. That my little sister would kick my ass knowingher only brother wasn’t strong enough to walk through the front door. But I wanted to be close to her without actually being close. I don't deserve that yet.

Not after I failed her.

I make my way from the bathroom, kicking beer cans and stepping over the pillow I curled up with on the floor last night. I glance over at the half-eaten breakfast that Cole brought me. I hate when he tries to take care of me. It makes the guilt worse and only makes Cole the worry wart, well… worry. But I’m grateful that at least someone still gives a shit about me, especially since it's sure as shit not myself.

A long breath leaves me as I sit down on the edge of the shitty mattress. I know I should go to the shop, Cole asked me to be there, and I know he’s right. I gotta pull myself out of this hell. The guilt starts to flood back in when I think of all the people I’ve shut out and pushed away over the past few weeks. People who only wanted to be there for me during the hardest time of my life.

Since Becca died I feel alone, which makes me sound like an idiot when I have a whole club standing behind me and know that if I called any time, night or day, they’d be there for me. Every time I think of her goofy smile and the stupid nicknames she used to call me, my heart shatters again and images of that night take over my mind like an old movie I can’t seem to quit playing.

My breath hitches in my throat just thinking about her and my hand instinctively reaches for the bottle of whiskey, bringing it to my lips to wash down all the feelings currently swelling in my chest. Warmth fills my throat and spreads throughout my chest with the taste of the amber medicine. I take another swig, a shiver running through my bones as the warmth of the alcohol takes over.

I should go to the shop. I really should go to the shop and not disappoint the one person left in my life that depends on me. Then I remember the pitiful look he gave me this morning.

I reach for my phone, take a third swig, and dial the number that has given me peace for the last three weeks. I know Layla wants more from me. Being a part of the Hell Hounds has its perks, and one of them is being able to pick from any of the girls at Moon. Layla headlines there every Thursday night for the god-fearing pricks of this town who avoid spending time with their families. To her, I'm the meal ticket to go from being a dancer to Old Lady. To me, she's a way to keep my mind clear and dick warm. It rings once before I hear her voice on the other end.

“Holden?”

Hang up,I think.

“Yeah, Babe, it’s me.”

“Everything okay?”

“Need you.”

I hear her sigh on the other end. “Holden… It's early.”

Another swig. “Please, Layla.” It comes out almost whispering and desperate as hell, but I don’t care.

Silence comes through on the other line before I hear her suck in a breath. “Meet me at Moon in an hour.”

“Okay.” I hang up before she gets any ideas that this is more than what it is and lay back on the bed. I’m gonna regret this and I can already hear the shit storm Cole is going to lay on me. A month ago, I might have cared, but now?

Now all I want is not to think.

KADENCE

It’s been a few hours since we got back to the shop and I keep seeing Cole pace back and forth across the parking lot, dialing someone on the phone and then hanging up a few moments later. The sun starts to dip and the sky turns a deep shade of orange when he finally comes back into the office. He’s stopped by a few times, making sure I’m okay and that I have a plate for my sandwich, but for the most part he’s kept his distance. I appreciate it. The less hovering he does, the more my anxiety sits at a low thrum in my chest.

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