Page 18 of Haunted By the Storm
"Of course," Effie agrees easily. "No pressure. We're all here when you're ready."
After she leaves, I serve Emily dinner on the couch, letting her continue her movie while she eats. The lasagna is delicious, rich with cheese and sauce that's clearly homemade. I eat my own portion standing in the kitchen, watching the clubhouse grounds through the window.
The sky has darkened to deep blue, with stars beginning to emerge. Lights illuminate the compound, revealing several bikers standing guard at strategic points. I spot Blaze among them, pacing near the main gate, a cigarette glowing between his fingers.
A flash of lightning in the distance makes me freeze, my fork halfway to my mouth. No. Not tonight. Please.
As if in answer to my silent plea, thunder rumbles, low and ominous. A storm is coming.
I set down my plate, my appetite gone. Memories claw at the edges of my mind:rain lashing against windows, thunder drowning out my cries, lightning illuminating a face twisted with cruelty.
"Mom?" Emily calls from the living room. "I think there's a storm coming. Should I get the thunder blanket?"
The thunder blanket is a weighted blanket I bought years ago when I realized my extreme reaction to storms was affecting Emily. She thinks it's to help her feel safe during loud storms,but it's really for me. The weight helps ground me when the panic threatens to overwhelm me.
"Yes, honey," I manage to say. "It's in the blue duffel bag."
She scrambles off the couch and happily digs through our hastily packed belongings until she finds the familiar blue blanket. She drags it back to the couch, spreading it across her lap.
"Come watch with me, Mom," she says, patting the spot beside her. "The thunder won't be so scary if we're together."
My sweet, thoughtful daughter trying to comfort me when she has no idea why storms terrify me so much…
Swallowing hard, I join her on the couch, letting her arrange the heavy blanket over both of us.
Another flash of lightning strikes, closer this time, followed by a loud crack of thunder. I flinch, my heart racing. Emily snuggles closer, seemingly unbothered by the storm brewing outside.
"It's okay, Mom," she whispers. "We're safe here."
I wrap my arm around her, trying to draw strength from her certainty. We are safe here, I remind myself. We’re surrounded by men who have promised to protect us, in a building with security measures that would put a prison to shame.
But as rain begins to pelt against the windows and lightning flashes again, illuminating the room in stark white light, I can't shake the feeling of vulnerability that storms always bring.
I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing, on the solid weight of Emily against my side. In, out. In, out. Just a storm. Just weather. Nothing to be afraid of.
But thunder growls again, and I'm sixteen once more, pinned down while rain pounds against the house and tears blur my vision.
"Mom?" Emily's voice cuts through the memory. "Someone's at the door."
I snap back to the present, realizing I missed the sound of knocking over the storm. Rising on shaky legs, I move to the door, checking the peephole before opening it.
Storm stands there, soaked from the rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and water dripping from his leather cut. His eyes widen slightly when he sees me, and I realize I must look as panicked as I feel.
"You okay?" he asks immediately.
"Fine," I say automatically. "Just the storm... startled me."
He studies me for a moment then glances past me to where Emily sits wrapped in the thunder blanket. Understanding dawns in his eyes.
"Mind if I come in?" he asks.
I step back wordlessly, letting him enter. He shrugs off his wet cut and hangs it on a hook by the door.
"I got caught in it on the way back," he explains, running a hand through his wet hair. "Your security system's all set up. Blaze is going to crash at your place tonight, make sure everything's working properly."
"Thank you," I say, wrapping my arms around myself as another rumble of thunder makes me tense.
Storm's eyes narrow, taking in my reaction. "You don't like storms."
