Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)(21)
Times of great stress tend to bring people closer together, and it’s done exactly that to us. The emotions I feel for him are many times more acute and stronger than they were before Thanksgiving. With clarity, I realize I’ve broken my life into two sections. Before Thanksgiving and after Thanksgiving. It’s the benchmark I’ve used instead of saying before Trevor’s wreck and after Trevor’s wreck. Thinking of it as Thanksgiving doesn’t make my head and chest hurt, it doesn’t flash me back to the way Trevor looked inside that truck as we got there. Sometimes I wake up, haunted by the vision of how his head was cocked to the side, even after Ryan told me he was breathing, how I still thought he may have had a broken neck and Ryan was wrong. I don’t wake up as much as I did when he was in the hospital, but every once in a while, I can feel my heart pounding, my breath coming faster, and a panic attack coming on. It’s part of what you live with every day thanks to the job.
I can’t stay inside this house right now, because the walls are closing in. My breath is coming fast, and I need some fresh air. Grabbing my phone and a bottle of water, I walk out onto Trevor’s back porch. Inhaling, I do my best to regulate my heartbeat and wait for the sweating to go away. One day I’m going to have to cry about what I saw, but today won’t be that day.
Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing, letting it take me out of my panic. When my hands have stopped shaking and my ears have stopped ringing, I open my eyes and take in the serenity of Trevor’s fenced-in backyard. Even though it’s December, the grass is green because of the rain and warm temperatures we’ve had. A fire pit sits in the furthest left corner, a hammock in the back right. As soon as he moved in, his mom planted flowerbeds and they’re blooming right now because of the warmth, dashes of color against the greenery of the yard. With a critical eye taught to me by my own mother, I see one of them is being overtaken by weeds. My upbringing won’t allow me to let that happen. Mommy dearest didn’t like weeds in her garden, as soon as one sprouted up, she’d get the gardener on that ASAP. Or the pool boy, whoever she had on speed-dial that day. Grabbing my bottle of water again, I march out, sink to my knees, and use all my pent-up energy to yank the fucking weeds out by their roots. Ugly things don’t belong here, and I’ll be damned if I let them stay.
Tank
“Do you know where you want to go first?” Whitney asks as she holds the door to the mall open for me.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the mall isn’t busy this time of morning. I’d been scared it would be hard for me to maneuver on my crutches and I might have to ask my sister to push me around in a wheelchair. “I do. The first place I want to stop is the jewelry store up on the right,” I motion with my head.
She claps her hands with a grin.
“Don’t get that kind of an idea,” I warn her. “Blaze and I aren’t anywhere near ready to make anything official, but there is something I’ve been eyeing for a while, for her. I’ve seen her eye it too, but she refuses to buy it because it’s expensive.’
Whitney raises an eyebrow at me. “With the money she comes from?”
Not many people know about Blaze’s family life, and she prefers not to make it a focus of her day-to-day, but even I have to laugh at Whitney’s question. “She doesn’t live off her family money, it stays in a trust.”
Whitney whistles through her teeth. “The Coleman money is a lot of damn money to let sit in a trust. I think I’d have to dip in, even if to just take a trip to I don’t know, the Maldives. Because with money like that, she can afford it.”
“Right?” I answer, because I’ve thought about asking her before if we could take a truly ostentatious trip.
Blaze’s family, once you know her real name, is one of the most affluent in this part of Alabama, the entire state if we want to get technical. She comes from old money, and if it were up to her family, they’d have a daughter like Whitney. One that wears her pearls, knows exactly how to act in polite company, and wants nothing more than to be the belle of the ball. Instead, they got the rebellious spitfire that is Blaze.
“Did I tell you I’m going to her parents’ house this weekend for their annual Christmas party?” I make small talk because it helps me with the physical exertion of using the crutches.
“Trev, are you for real? Please tell me you have something nice to wear. That’s like the party of the year. Even though I don’t do events, do you know what a feather in my cap it would be to plan that event? Just one time.”
“Stop salivating,” I shoot her a look. “Yes, I do have a suit to wear. I’m hoping at my final physical therapy appointment this week they’ll give me the okay to bear weight.”
“Wouldn’t that be early?” Her eyebrows come together, worry in the middle.
“We’re only looking at a few days early in the grand scheme of things.”
“Days that add up to a couple of weeks,” she points out, already acting like the mother she’s been for only a short time.
“They told me I’m doing well, and we started a little at my last appointment. They took x-rays to see how the bone is healing, and if it’s healed enough, I’ll get a new cast, which is actually a brace, be able to bear weight and start doing some pool exercises which will help me build muscle up quicker and have much less impact. I’m doing good, sis.”