27. Teysha

27

TEYSHA

Sydney groans when she finds out what we have planned. Honestly, Korine's the brains behind the operation. Hope and I are more so her accomplices.

We're taking her on an all-day spa experience, and then we'll be doing wine-tasting at a local winery. All things Sydney will enjoy as one of her last days as a bachelorette.

She folds her arms on the Steel Saloon's bar counter and puts her head down. "I should've known when you asked me to wait on you."

"Don't make things difficult," Korine says. "We're prepared to kidnap you."

"The trunk space in my Camry is surprisingly roomy. Pretty sure I've got some rope too." Hope winks at the rest of us.

"You hear this? Come willingly or we will snatch you up."

Sydney groans again at Korine's threat. "I said I didn't want a bachelorette party."

"It'll be fun! You'll have a good time."

"Don't be a spoil sport. "

I stand by as the other two badger the bride-to-be. Things have been amazing between me and Logan lately, but I'm still stuck between smiling at their light teasing and sinking into my own thoughts about how I'll never experience moments like this. Though I'm married, I never got the chance to be a real bride-to-be, celebrating my oncoming nuptials.

Those things were taken from me.

Marriage proposals. Engagement announcements. Bachelorette parties. A real wedding.

The honeymoon.

None if it will ever be something I've experienced.

My marriage happened much more differently than most people. I didn't get a choice, and it was during the most traumatic period of my life. It was to a man who didn't even want to be married to me once we re-entered the real world…

My smile slips and I glance away from the other ladies and their animated chatter. An itch tickles my throat, a trapped sob trying to make its way out.

Not now. Please not right now.

This is Sydney's moment. Sydney's the one getting married. It's her time to shine.

I'm happy for her. I truly, truly am. She deserves to be celebrated, and I can't wait to be a part of her wedding to Mason.

But I can't pretend I'm not feeling jealous. Seeds of envy plant themselves inside me and begin growing despite how I try to squash them out. I need a moment to collect myself.

Jealousy is one of the most toxic feelings, and I won't allow myself to become that woman.

Sydney's my closest friend .

"Excuse me, ladies," I mumble. "I need to grab more White Oak from the back room. Mick says we want to stock up for the fellas and their party."

"Do you need help?" Korine asks. "The bottles are heavy."

"That's alright. I'm just going to grab two."

I leave them staring after me as I cut out from the barroom. The second I'm out of sight, out of earshot, a stifled breath finally finds freedom. I've been holding it in, doing my best to present as excited and upbeat.

A moment alone allows for the truth to spill out.

I make my way to the stockroom only to find the White Oak's gone. The other bottles must be in the basement. In need of an excuse to use the next few minutes to collect myself, I head down the hall where the door is that leads down into the basement.

It doesn't matter that I never got to have the same experiences as Sydney.

Everyone's journey is different. Mine has been dark and painful, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful. Things have begun to take shape, and I'm proud of being able to survive what I've gone through. I'm cautiously optimistic about the fact that my husband is more open now than ever to giving our marriage a real chance.

I can celebrate tonight without focusing on what I don't have. It won't do anything to change the past.

I'm in the middle of talking sense to myself, making it down the stairs that descend into the basement. My hand stretches out for the light switch at the bottom. The space is cool and dank even in the thick of summer, and shadows cloak every inch of the room.

The light flickers on, weak and dim.

My eyebrows jerk together. The draft in the air invades my lungs, making it hard to breathe again.

I'm not alone.

Chained to a chair on the opposite side of the room is none other than Mandy. She's withered and grimy, in torn clothes that hang off her emaciated frame. Her limp fiery red hair drapes her face in thin sheets. She glances up at me with sunken eyes and a snarl of her lip.

"Well, if it isn't my little sweetheart. I didn't expect to see you down here. You've missed me?"

A startled breath bursts out of me as I falter to a stop where I am. I had forgotten what Mick had warned me about—the Kings have been using the basement as an interrogation cell for the Chosen Saints they've captured. It started out with Xavier before he died. Mandy's their latest prisoner.

My heart skips inside my chest, the range of complicated emotions playing from the top. Panic that threatens to take root. Shock that she's greeting me with affection. Unexpected anger that kindles to life. A slow burn that torches the other emotions down.

How dare she?!

"What is it, sweetheart?" she asks, adding a shrill cackle. "You mean you're not happy to see me?"

I'm not sure how to behave. I'm stiff as I step toward the collection of liquor in the corner. My legs feel more like wooden stilts than anything.

Get in. Get out. Don't even acknowledge her.

"I expected him, not you. My stallion boy. Did you know he's been coming down to see me?"

Her cackle fills the room some more, bouncing off the walls. I reach for the bottles of whiskey and notice how my hands shake. From anger? From more panic? I'm not sure .

But I don't think I've ever wished more ill on someone than I do Mandy in this moment.

For what she did to me. For what she did to Logan .

"He's pretty rough, my stallion boy. Did you know that?" she asks, her nasty smile widening. "Just the way I like it. But you were a favorite too, sweetheart. So pretty, so untouched. So easy for us to train. That's why the Leader called upon you so many times?—"

"Stop it!" I scream. The bottle of whiskey I've grabbed onto slips out of my grasp and shatters onto the floor. I leap back as shards of glass scatter.

Bile rushes me all at once. The nausea an onslaught that doesn't care about time or place.

I scramble for the nearby sink basin and spill my stomach contents inside it.

Mandy laughs. She convulses against her bindings in the chair as her witchy cackle rings out.

I'm stuck retching, my head in the sink, eyes watery and throat sore.

"Teysha? My god, what's going on down here?"

Mick hobbles down the last of the basement stairs and hurries over to help me. He snatches a towel off a shelf and hands it over to me, his hand gentle on my back.

"Let's get you upstairs. Why'd you come down here? I can get the White Oak myself, darling." He slides his arm around me to guide me toward the staircase, throwing a dirty look in Mandy's direction. "I heard the bottle shatter and came rushing down. The girls said you'd gone to the stockroom."

"I couldn't find…" I trail off, the queasy feeling going nowhere. "Please don't tell anyone."

"But—"

"I don't want to worry anyone. "

Mick's bushy white brows crease, but he gives a nod. "Alright, head on upstairs. I'll handle this mess."

Korine asks me several times if I'm okay and still up for Sydney's bachelorette party. With my earlier bout of nausea gone, I reassure her that I am.

The spa we're taking Sydney to is an hour outside of Pulsboro. We arrive in two separate vehicles. Korine drives the first while Bush's wife, Lesley, drives the second. For the duration of the afternoon, we're stripped down to comfy robes while we indulge in various spa treatments like facials and massages.

The spa offers unlimited drinks and a delicious food selection like fruit platters, cheeses, pasta salads, and even a chocolate fondue. After her first glass of champagne, Sydney stops complaining. She embraces the idea that today is her day and she's the bride-to-be being pampered and celebrated.

It's impossible not to feel at ease at the spa.

The sensitive reactions I'd been experiencing earlier feel ridiculous as I sit on a reclining lounge chair by the therapeutic whirlpool. It wouldn't be the first time I've had an emotional spell that seemingly came out of nowhere. A rush of hormones that I can't control, spilling out of me like water from a faucet.

I'm not sure what could be the cause other than the trauma I've suffered. The difficulty I've had adjusting to life afterward.

But as I lay on the lounge chair and listen to the trickling water, I let out a slow breath and remind myself it's working out. I just have to believe it will .

My phone vibrates from the pocket of my robe. I smile realizing who it's from.

How's it going, baby? Mick told me u got sick…

I shouldn't even be surprised he would. Mick was worried and he's aware Logan expects to be told anything important about me. He must be with the rest of the guys who are getting ready to celebrate Mason for the night. Yet he's texting me. He's thinking about me.

Warmth spreads in my belly. I quickly respond.

I'm feeling better. Thanks for thinking about me. :)

His reply comes not even five seconds after.

Always. Behave urself.

I pocket my phone still smiling. Still with the warmth glowing inside me.

"The hubby checking in on you?" Sydney asks, wandering over. She's sporting the same soft lavender robe I am, her face painted in a minty green mask.

"He is. Just making sure I'm okay. I was a little sick earlier."

"I heard. Mick told me."

"Apparently Mick told everyone."

"Don't take it personally. Consider him something like the grandpa of the saloon. He looks out for all of us."

"I'm not. But I don't want anyone worrying about me when it's your day."

Sydney snorts, dropping into the lounge chair next to mine. "It's not my day, Tey. It's our day. I'm not about that the-bride-is-special nonsense. So what if I'm getting married? We're all celebrating each other. Not just me."

"How do you feel? Nervous?"

"About being a married woman?" Sydney lets out a small laugh. "Nervous would be an understatement. But… I can't wait. This past year with Mace has been the best of my life. I can't wait to live out the rest of them with him."

"I'm happy for you. Both of you."

"What about you and Logan? You're doing better, right?"

I nod, the warmth expanding, flushing onto my skin. "Much better."

"It's going to work out for all of us. Once the guys handle the latest threat, we'll be good."

"Has Mace told you much about it?"

"Not really. I'm head old lady, but club business is club business. I like not knowing too much anyway. The last time I got involved, I was buried alive."

"I don't blame you."

"But," she goes on, "I think Mace wants me to learn how to shoot. He heard about how Logan's teaching you. Maybe the next lady's night we have, you can show us what you've learned."

I can only laugh in response. I'm in no position to show off my firearm skills, but I take it as a compliment anyway.

Come evening, we end our time at the spa and move on to wine tasting. Half of the ladies are already tipsy from sipping on mimosas, belinis, and champagne throughout the day. I've barely had a drop. I'm used to whiskey the few times I have drank. Always with Logan in our apartment.

…except for the time at Zapote with the two men from the Barreras and the times with the Chosen Saints, which I don't count.

My first taste of wine disagrees with my stomach. It churns mere seconds after I've tasted some cabernet.

Hope gives me a sympathetic frown. "I'm not much of a cabernet fan either. It tastes like medicine to me. Try some pinot."

I know before even taking a sip the pinot noir won't be any better. From the moment it slides down my throat, my belly quakes. My hand claps over my mouth.

Korine notices as she's in the middle of sampling wine with some of the other ladies. She breaks away to check on me, concern etched on her face.

"I'm fine… really…" I mumble. "I'm just…"

"Nauseous?" Hope supplies. Then she glances at Korine.

"We should probably go. You should lie down."

"I don't want to ruin Sydney's party."

"Girl, stop it," Sydney says, moving closer. She's taken notice the way the others have. She sets down the wine glass she was sipping from. "You're more important than some wine-tasting event. We can go wine tasting any time. Time to go. "

Any protests fall on deaf ears. The women pile into the cars we've driven over in. I'm in the backseat, my brow pressed into the glass window of the rear passenger seat. The constant motion of the ride does nothing to settle my stomach.

I distract myself by texting Logan. Unlike a few hours ago, he doesn't respond right away.

The bachelor party probably has him distracted.

We pull up outside the apartment I share with him. Korine parks against the curb. The ladies insist on helping me up to the second floor despite more of my protests. As we approach, we gradually slow down, then stop altogether.

The front door hangs open.

Someone has been here… and they wanted us to know they have.