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Get a grip, Lilah.
Lyric’s beautiful body is dancing on the stage right in front of me as she slowly removes her clothing. We could be the only ones in this club, but I still wouldn’t be able to focus on her curves.
The toe of my Doc Marten sticks against the floor as I bounce my knee up and down. I’m a bundle full of nerves. Nearly seconds away from bolting out of here.
An internal scream fills my mind as a large body drops into the chair on my other side. My gaze whips over to a stern-faced Ghost.
I drop my gaze down to my lap and freeze.
After what feels like forever, I work up the courage to bring my eyes back to his. My body immediately relaxes when I find a soft smile pulling at his lips.
“I’m not mad at you, Princess,” Ghost says, reaching over and taking my small hand in his. “Whatever the fuck Ringer told you about what was said that day had absolutely nothing to do with you.”
“Oh,” I grunt. I don’t really believe him, but I decide to listen to whatever he has to say.
“Look at me, babe.”
I bring my eyes back to his and search for the sincerity in his voice to match.
“I just don’t want to lose my brother again,” Ghost says, the pain clear as day in his voice.
Ghost blames me for his brother going to prison.
I get it. Iblame myself too.
A knot forms in my throat, and no matter how hard I try to force it down, it won't leave.
My head jerks in a small nod as I try to settle the tremors threatening to wrack my body.
Don’t cry.
I knew people blamed me, even if no one admitted it out loud. For years I’ve felt like, deep down, everyone blamed me for going to that party. If I wouldn’t have gone, Ringer wouldn’t have followed me there and, in turn, wouldn’t have gotten in that fight that accidentally killed that kid.
Ghost must recognize the panic in my demeanor because he pulls me closer to him. “I’m not mad at you, Lilah. Look at me.”
If I look at him, he’ll see the tears in my eyes. If I look at him, he’ll see right through me, like he is able to see through everyone. It’s his gift. It’s why he’s so good with people. He can read anyone.
Not giving me a choice, Ghost draws my face to his with a ringed finger nudging my chin.
He winces at what he finds in my eyes, cursing under his breath.
“What’s wrong, Lilah?”
“I just don’t want you to hate me.” I throw my hands up in front of my face. “I don’t wantanyoneto hate me for this.”
“Do you regret it?”
“What, marrying your brother?”
“Going to the party.”
My eyes widen in shock at the question. “Every single day of my life, Ghost.”
“Okay, do you regret marrying my brother?”
I pause, but not because I regret it. No, I pause because Idon’t.
I turn a large smile at my husband’s big brother. “No, I don’t.”
