Chapter Six

I stop and look over my shoulder when the sensation of someone watching me has my hair standing on end. It's almost like static electricity, an energy, something I can't quite put my finger on.

"You okay?" Caden asks, leaning against the side of the building on his smoke break.

The wind stirs and clouds form above, promising rain. It's wild how fast it rains here. One moment, it's sunny, the next, a wicked storm has me seeking shelter.

"I'm fine." I take another glance around the parking lot to see if there is anything out of the ordinary.

There are only vehicles parked between the lines and the smell of Caden's cigarette. The wind rustles the leaves on the low-hanging branches. Suddenly I feel pressure on my chest again just like I did when I was in the shower a few nights ago.

And I calm instantly.

"Are you sure? You look like you've seen a ghost. You can take the day off. I know you have a lot going on with the new house. We can manage this shift," he offers, flicking the cigarette on the ground before toeing the ember out.

I shake my head. "No, I need to keep busy. I'm becoming restless and I'm starting to sleepwalk again. I think it's just the stress of not being with Milo and Minnie, you know? I'm taking on a big project. I'll be fine. I just need more of a schedule."

He narrows his gaze, debating if he believes me or not. "Sleepwalking? That must be rough."

I give him a grim smile. "Yeah, it didn't happen until…" I look down at my feet. "Doesn't matter. I need to be out of the house anyway. They are replacing the floors and getting started on the roof."

"I can't wait to see it done. It's a great piece of property. I hated seeing it go to waste."

"Did you ever know anyone who lived there?"

He opens the diner door for me, the bell jingling. "No. I'm afraid that was before my time. It's worth the love it's getting." He eyes my long-sleeved shirt and pants. "Aren't you hot?"

I'm burning up, but I will never show my scars. "No, I'm fine. It's a bit cold in the diner." I step inside and see Demi behind the hostess stand.

She grins wide and happy, genuinely glad to see me, unlike her husband, Creed. He is standing behind her protectively, growling for no other reason than to growl. He means well. I like him for her. He is a bit odd with the tattooed skin, golden eyes, and fangs, but everyone has their preferences, right? There's no judgment.

But I think there's more to him than that. I think he's a beast, not that I'd ever admit that out loud or people would think I'm mental. I'm envious of Demi. I'd rather have a beast than a man any day of the week.

"Hey girl. How are you?" Demi greets, rubbing her pregnant belly.

Storm, their son, is currently crawling all over Creed's torso and Creed isn't flinching. He's scanning the diner as if he is waiting for someone to say something about his son.

"Good. Tired." I awkwardly tuck my hair behind my ear, not really knowing what else to say. I can't remember how to be with people. I've been my own company for so long and it's an adjustment. I'm not sure if I'll ever be normal. "How about you? How are you feeling?"

She groans, tapping her stomach. "If these babies would stop using me as a punching bag, I'd feel a lot better."

Creed grins.

I think.

It's very… toothy.

"My children are strong. This is good."

Demi squints her eyes at him, her cheeks turning red with frustration. "Oh? Is it good? How about I punch you over and over in the stomach and see how you like it? Maybe then you won't be so happy." She snags Storm from his shoulder, pops him on her hip, and waddles through the dining room to her office.

"What did I do?" Creed questions, his long black claw digging into the podium. "Makes no sense."

"I swear, sometimes I think you're clueless," Jake, the sheriff of this town, says from a nearby booth.

"Sometimes I think you'd be better off dead, but here I am, not allowed to kill you," Creed sneers.

Not wanting to get in the way of two men in a pissing match, I hurry by them.

I'm not quick enough though.

Creed snags me by my wrist, his hold gentle so he doesn't hurt me, but it's enough to stop me in my tracks. I freeze. Panic grips my sight, a reaper all in itself wanting to destroy me.

"You smell weird," he blurts so loud, that everyone in the diner turns to look at me.

My face heats with embarrassment and I think about the days with Ty where I went weeks without a bath. Now, I bathe twice a day. It's impossible for me to smell bad, not between the showers, the deodorant, and the perfume.

Oh my God, what if it's the long sleeves and I'm sweating more than I think?

"Creed," Caden grumbles in a low warning. "Remember how we talked about being rude? That's rude."

"I'm not trying to be rude," he huffs. "Something is off about your scent is all. Usually, it's a bit bitter with panic and fear but now it's something else."

"Again. Rude," Caden tells him.

"You can't scent panic and fear," I say warily. "But I have been swimming in the lake behind my house, maybe that's it."

"You smell fine, Mickey. Don't let that idiot tell you otherwise." Jake tosses a few dollars on the table before standing up.

"This idiot will—" Creed is silenced by Storm smashing into his leg, wrapping his arms and legs around him like a monkey before climbing up his body. "—You better be glad my kid is here, Jake. I've had it with you."

Jake snorts, pulling his pants up by his utility belt. "I've heard that before. Demi is my friend. You hurt me, you hurt her."

"She needs better friends."

"You two bickering gives me a headache." Caden rubs his temples, a bolt of lightning crashing directly outside the diner.

I jump, startled by the loud crash.

Creed finally lets go of me, tilting his head, and his nostrils flare. He's about to ask another question when another strike of lightning flashes and screeches.

Caden's eyes glow a bright blue in the quick glow the lightning brings but just as quick as the color is there, it's gone in the next instance.

I'm losing my mind. I'm hearing voices, feeling touches, and now I'm seeing things.

That familiar touch in the middle of my chest blankets me in peace, calming me almost instantly. I don't know what it is, or why, or again, if it is all in my head.

I'm a mess inside and out, a wreckage in the middle of the sea waiting to sink to the bottom of the ocean. I'm barely treading water and everyone else around me is swimming to shore.

"You okay, Mickey?" The safe sound of my brother's voice has me nodding.

"Yeah," I croak. "Sorry. I got lost in thought. I'm fine, everyone. And Creed, I'm sorry my scent isn't to your liking."

Storm tugs on Creed's hair and the man doesn't mind one bit as he shrugs his shoulder. "I don't like how anyone smells. Only Demi."

"You're so fucking weird," the sheriff mumbles.

His radio crackles and a female voice begins to speak. "All units. All units respond. There's been a robbery—"

Jake turns his radio off so we can't hear the rest. "That's my cue. I have to go."

"Finally," Creed says clearly. "Hope to see you never."

Jake smiles, resting his hand on his gun as he heads out the door. The bell jingles and the hard pellets of rain become louder.

Crap.

If it's raining, the roof won't get done today. Hopefully, they at least put a tarp over it.

I'm left with a million thoughts running through my mind about the house, wondering if this is something I can truly do. This renovation on the house is a test. I want to prove to myself I can put in hard work and give something that's been neglected for so long, a new look.

Sighing, I tie the apron around my waist, double knotting it in the back so the ties don't come undone. Milo is behind the bar, pouring beer and making milkshakes. He's a professional at charming customers so Demi promoted him to bar manager.

Minnie does more administrative work.

Me? I wait tables and I'm just trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life. I have no idea what I'm good at or what I like to do. I'm taking it one day at a time in hopes something will spark my interest.

Honestly, the only thing I can think about is going shopping for the house. I want to dive deep into the renovations.

"Stupid Girl, you'll mess that up too."

"No, I won't," I whisper through tight teeth to Ty's voice in my head.

"No, you won't, what?"

I scream, holding my hand to my chest as I twirl around so fast, I lose my footing and begin to fall. An arm wraps around my waist, saving me from breaking my neck.

"Oh my gosh, thank you. That was a close call."

"What was?" Creed asks from the hostess stand, Storm biting onto his shoulder with his mini teeth and still, the man doesn't flinch.

"This nice person caught me from falling." I point somewhere behind me.

Creed leans back where he stands, and Storm mimics him. His son stands on his shoulders, grabs his hair as reins, and leans. Two Creeds.

The world isn't ready.

"There's no one there, Mickey. Are you sure?"

"I nearly just busted my face. Yes, I'm sure." I turn around to speak to the person who saved me, but Creed is right.

No one is there.

I spin around, looking all over the diner. There are a few couples on the far side having a late lunch but other than that, the diner is empty.

"I swear, Creed. Someone was here. I felt his arm." I touch where the man touched, my waist still warm from where we connected.

I want to feel that again. I want to feel that momentary spark. There was a quietness that took over in that split second, the same silence that enveloped me when I felt the pressure against the middle of my chest.

"Well whatever it was, it's gone. I would be able to smell anything, man or not, and nothing is there, Mickey." Creed takes out a beanie from his pocket, tugging it over his head. "No more hair tugging for you. That shit hurts, Storm." He picks up his son by the back of his shirt and carries him just like that to the office where Demi is, leaving me alone standing in the middle of the diner.

Someone was there. I'm not losing my mind. I felt him. I felt… something.

"You good?" Caden asks, walking out of the kitchen with a tray covered in freshly cooked food.

"Yeah. Fine. I think I need a cup of coffee." I run into the kitchen, away from the diner, away from people, and lean against one of the counters.

I grip it with my hands, inhaling and exhaling for a few minutes before there is a tap on my shoulder.

My hand flies to my chest and my scream is caught in my throat when I see it's Holt. "I've been scared one too many times today, Holt." I chuckle, sighing in relief when it's him.

He's a big bear of a man, but his body doesn't match his soul. He's sweet and gentle, a bit shy, and very quiet. The man does not speak.

Holt holds a coffee mug in his right hand, making the cup look miniature in his wide palm. He holds it out to me, lifting his left hand. His fingers sign two, then one.

Two creams, one sugar.

I smile at him, knowing he must have overheard what I said to Caden. I reach for the mug, the steam instantly drifting through my nose as I inhale. The delicate porcelain warms my palms, and the first sip brings me back down to earth.

"Thank you, Holt. I really appreciate you bringing me this. Is there anything I can help you with in here? I don't think I'm needed out there right now. We are slow, especially with this storm rolling through."

He nods, spins around, and gestures for me to follow him. I do gladly. There aren't many men I trust in the world and even saying I trust is a stretch, but I've never felt unsafe with Holt. My instincts don't scream at me to run away from him.

I can't be afraid forever. Living in fear won't bring me any closer to healing, it will only keep me in the dark for longer, and the loneliness it brings is cold.

He stops at the station where he usually chops all the vegetables.

I grin. "Oh, really? You never did like chopping."

He shrugs, then points to the ingredients he is putting together to make loaves of fresh bread. I love his bread. He makes French toast with it, finishing it with powdered sugar and the bread is so fluffy.

My mouth waters. I'll need to put in a request for a big plate of French toast soon.

"Okay, you have a deal, only if I'm allowed to have one more cup of coffee."

He shakes his head, mouthing the word water.

I roll my eyes. "I had a glass this morning."

He tosses the rag over his shoulder and crosses his arms, lifting a bushy brow.

"Okay—" I drawl out, beginning to chop carrots "—I had half a glass. It still counts, Holt."

He shakes his head, leaving me to my chopping so he can make the bread. Being in the kitchen and away from the noise of the main dining room is nice. Soon I'm not sure how much time I've spent chopping, as time has flown by, and I crack my neck.

My coffee is cold.

The lights above flicker as thunder rolls. The knife clatters to the counter. A tremble works its way through my body and a memory of Ty chaining me outside in the middle of a storm with my hands tied behind my back and duct tape over my mouth slams into me.

An electric current slips down my arms in a caress as if the energy is taking its time to feel me.

A shaky breath escapes me, my eyes half-hooded from the touch. The hairs on my arms stand up. I watch the hairs move from something gliding down until it interlocks between my fingers.

My throat is dry. My heart is pounding. There's a warmth spreading from my stomach to my clit, a feeling I haven't had in a very long time. I swallow, licking my lips, remaining quiet so Holt doesn't hear me.

"You're okay, My Timid Little Bloom. I'll always be with you. You don't need to ever fear anything again. You only need to be afraid of how much I want you."A masculine, rough voice whispers into my ear.

I check to see if Holt can hear the voice too, but he is kneading the dough without a care in the world.

"You're doing a good job trying to better yourself. I'm proud of you, mate."

My hand reaches for the knife on its own accord. The tip of the knife digs into the cutting board and I twirl the blade— well, I don't— this being, this energy does. I should be so fucking afraid right now, but all I feel is protected.

"There's a scar I want to get rid of— a brand—" he whispers into the lost cause of my mind "—I don't like another man's claim on you when you belong to me."

My tongue is tied. There's so much I want to say.

"I don't belong to anyone." I keep my voice so quiet, hardly I can hear it. I'm paranoid and glance over at Holt again.

I begin to chop celery, not of my own doing, and a dark villainous chuckle slides down my spine

"That is where you are wrong, Mickey. You are mine. In all my forms."

"How do you know my name?" Tears form in my eyes, and I don't know if it's from fear or excitement. One breaks free and something wet slides over my cheek.

"You taste so fucking good."

If this is the new warden in my mind, then I suppose losing all sense has never felt so good.