So, no. I didn’t feel like my siblings had done anything wrong. It was a shame Billie couldn’t let go of the past, though, and it would always be something between us.
I went to do my laundry, then Samira sent me her list and I headed out in her car to get the groceries.
I was in the candy aisle, trying to decide what to get Rhiannon, when something in the nearby aisles made an ungodly banging sound. I froze. My ears started ringing and I stopped breathing. I recognized what was going on, but my body checked out anyway.
“Hey, buddy,” someone said next to me.
The guy was half a foot shorter than me, but I could immediately tell he was military. He looked at me with understanding but zero pity.
I felt helpless, because my kind of PTSD just locked me up for a minute or two. It happened incredibly rarely and luckily almost never around other people. Except today.
“So, I can tell by your eyes that this is pretty normal. I’m just gonna hang with you until you unstuck yourself, okay?”
I blinked slowly to show him I understood.
“Must be a bitch to have everything lock up like that. But hey, at least you look like a biker so people won’t mess with you,” he kept talking. “I start to shake and get sweaty. But my dog is good at noticing it before it happens, so that’s helpful. She’s the best girl, even though she’s never been trained for that stuff.”
I listened to him ramble on about his dog, and slowly but surely my jaw unclenched and I could feel the rest of my body follow suit.
“Thanks,” I croaked.
“No problem.” He grinned. “Just, pay it forward and all that. And get an extra treat for yourself.”
“Pet your dog for me?”
“Will do.” He smiled happily and grabbed his basket, then went on his way.
* * * *
Three days later I stepped onto a luxury yacht in Miami, and off we went.
The crew and captain were nice, and one of the crew, Edgar, had been on a same gig with me before, so that was nice.
He and I ended up sharing a bedroom which was more luxurious than anything I’d been to before.
“Shit, this is fancy,” he said, putting his suitcase on the top bunk.
“Seriously.” I tossed my bag onto the lower one.
Even with the normal staff quarters bunk bed setting, this was seriously some rich people shit.
“How much do you think this boat is worth?” Edgar asked as he peered into the little toilet slash bathroom we’d be sharing.
“Maybe somewhere around twenty mil? Something like that.”
He whistled and shook his head. “Definitely not for the poor, these things.”
The familiar rumble started, and I kicked off my boots to change them to sandals. I was already wearing board shorts and T-shirt, because it was hot as fuck in Miami this time of year.
Edgar slipped out of the room to go check something or other.
My phone pinged with a text.
The new guy is great. His entourage too. It was Sierra, Twin Star’s office manager and one of my closest friends.
Entourage?
His two besties. Lake and River are twenty-five-ish, then there’s their stray. Rey’s seventeen. Runaway of some sort.
