Mama helped me find a way to feel them comin’ on. She read and listened to anythin’ she could get her hands on that might help me. We developed a breathin’ technique, and she gave me my necklace. It worked, and by the time I got to college, I hadn’t had an episode in over three years. I thought I’d outgrown them all.
I was dead wrong.
I toe some broken glass beneath my boot, emotions and memories bubblin’ up in my gut, before I whirl around on the pair behind me. I look at them with accusation in my eyes as I cross my arms in front of me. I did this, and they tried to hide it from me. “I thought you said you talked me down?”
Flint scratches the back of his neck. “Well, we did. Eventually. This was before we managed to.”
“No harm done. That’s what you said,” I relay to him before I swing my arms around in a circle like a crazy person. “This sure looks like a hell of a lot of harm done to me, Flint!”
He cringes a bit at my voice, and I’ll admit, I did get up there in octaves, but that’s beside the point.
“You lied,” I tell them both. “Lyin’ is a sin.”
Alder chuckles. “Not to us. Demons, remember?”
I wave a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t pretend like this is no big deal. You should’ve told me.” An ache starts behind my sternum. I feel horrible. I trashed their bar, and for some reason, they’re more worried about how I’m going to take the news rather than be pissed that I’ve made matchsticks out of the interior of their business.
Alder shrugs, completely unremorseful. “We didn’t want you to feel bad. And it’s not like this is entirely your fault. Besides, it should’ve been cleaned up and put back together by now. We told Mickey to take care of it with the imps. Clearly, he didn’t follow directions.”
“Mickey is the I am Groot bartender, right?”
Alder smirks. “Right.”
“Well, it wasn’t Mickey’s responsibility. Or these...what did you say?”
“Imps,” he repeats smoothly.
“Or these imps. Wait...what are imps?” But as soon as the question is out of my mouth, I hold up a hand. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t wanna know right now.”
I turn around and snap the hair tie off my wrist, and then bundle up my long blonde and green locks up in a high twisty bun on the crown of my head. Walkin’ across the bar, I’m careful not to step on too much glass and spread it all over the place, but there’s nothin’ for it right now. My favorite cowboy boots are probably gonna have to be tossed after this.
“What are ya doing, Peaches?” Flint asks as I make my way for the hallway in the back.
“What’s it look like? I’m gonna clean up this mess I caused.”
Footsteps immediately come after me, but I reach the hallway first. There are four doors, and one is the office that I already saw, so I jiggle the door to another, but that turns out to be a bathroom. I move to the third one, only to find that it’s locked.
“This the supply closet?” I turn to ask, only to find Alder and Flint right behind me, barely a hair’s breadth away.
“That leads to the cellar where we keep our liquor,” Alder explains.
“Alright,” I say, headin’ for the fourth door. “How ’bout this one?”
He nods slowly, and I can’t tell what he’s thinkin’, but the scrutiny they’re both lookin’ at me with is a little unnervin’. “Yes, that’s where we keep the supplies.”
“Great,” I say, jigglin’ the knob. “Care to unlock it for me?”
“You don’t need to worry about cleaning up this mess. The imps can do it,” Flint says, and even though I still have no idea what a damn imp is, I make a sour face.
“No, I did this and I’ll clean it up, thank you very much,” I tell them both primly. “My daddy always taught me to fix my messes, so that’s what I’m aimin’ to do.”
The two of them share a look, like they’re silently arguin’ over who’s gonna talk me out of this, so I figure I’ll save them the trouble.
“Look,” I say, cuttin’ off their silent conversation. “My mama will tell you that I’m as stubborn as a mule when I want to be. I’ve dug my heels in. There’s nothin’ for it. Now, you either open this door for me so I can get proper supplies, or I will tromp my ass right back up to your house and use your damn bedsheets to mop the floor in here. What’s it gonna be?”
Alder grimaces, like the very idea of his sheets bein’ used to slop up the spilt liquor in this place disgusts him. “Fine,” he says, relentin’ on a sigh.
He moves forward, a hand comin’ down to my waist to move me away so he can get to the lock. I’m not expectin’ the sudden touch, and I freeze, my eyes shootin’ up to his face. There’s a moment where we just look at one another, and I swear, the heat of his palm soaks through my shirt, the barest sliver of skin exposed so that the pad of his finger is makin’ direct contact with me. Just that—just that measly, minuscule skin-to-skin contact has me burnin’ with an attraction that sends me swayin’ toward him.
“Excuse me,” he murmurs quietly, and I blink past the haze of intense want as he gently nudges me aside. Oh, right. I was in his way.
Clearin’ my throat, I back up, kickin’ myself at my over-the-top reaction.
What in the name of wet panties was that, Medley?
I mean, I’ve
