Zoey kept saying she had felt blessed. She wasn’t the only one. She had felt it, too.
Lily and she spent time talking about Treepoint and how everyone in the club was doing since she left.
“I’m happy to hear that Viper’s brother is staying at the club,” Ginny said, buttering a roll. “Willa told me he was found. He didn’t want to come to Queen City with the other Last Riders?”
“Shade and I both tried to get him to”—Lily leaned into her husband’s side when he placed an arm over her shoulders—“but he preferred to stay home.”
T.A. had told her a few details of what he had gone through, including Gavin’s ex-fiancée coming to the rehab center. She felt terrible for the pain he had suffered for so long, only to find out the woman he loved was married and expecting another man’s child.
“I look forward to meeting him the next time I’m in town.”
After dinner, Ginny hugged Rachel and Lily then told Shade good-bye, staying a safe distance away from him. She then said good-bye to the rest of the group and was hugging Sawyer when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Shade disconcertingly watching her, probably noticing she maintained her distance from all the men. Ginny brushed it off, though. Shade may be curious about her, but he would never ask. That was the best part about Shade—he was a man of few words. She wished that was a trait his sister shared.
Deep down, they were sensing something was off with her. Every time she caught the brother’s and sister’s gazes on her, it made her nervous. If anyone could figure out the secret relationship between her and T.A., it would be one of them.
Outside the restaurant, Ginny gave Penni her card back.
“The hairs,” Penni reminded her.
Opening her purse, she gave her hair back.
“Exactly what were you going to do with them?”
“Bury them at midnight when it’s raining. It brings bad luck for a year.”
“Are you still mad at me?” Penni warily moved an arm distance away from her.
“No, I got over it when Shade told me Greer’s to-go order. He ordered three shrimp cocktails and the surf and turf platter.” Ginny raised her hand with the take-out bag to wave at Zoey and Stump as they left in her tiny car.
“Did Rachel forget Greer’s to-go order?”
“No, it’s my lunch for tomorrow.”
* * *
Dreading going home and into her bedroom, she knew what she needed to do—what she should have done the last time, if just to reassure herself that she wasn’t overreacting. Reaching for her purse, she took out a different cell phone than she normally used. Pressing one of the three numbers already keyed in, she waited for the call to be answered. It took two rings.
“What’s wrong? It’s been a while since you’ve called me.”
She hadn’t called him since the day she left Treepoint.
“I think I did something stupid twice, and I want you to tell me it’s all right and I’m overreacting.”
“What did you do?” His voice wasn’t starting out reassuring.
Sitting up in bed, she told him about getting up to sing twice at the bar. “I should have pretended to pass out or something … shouldn’t I?”
There was complete silence on the other end.
“I mean, I don’t look anything like I did back then. I was child! Even my voice has changed … Hammer, are you still there?” A tear slid out of the corner of her eye as she waited for him to answer.
“How full was the bar?”
“I don’t know, maybe sixty or seventy people.”
“Each time?”
Ginny raised trembling fingers to wipe the tear away. “More the first time.”
“How many more?”
“I don’t know. Maybe forty or fifty more.” Ginny bit her lip, not wanting Hammer to hear the wobble in her voice.
“What age range would you say were in the crowd?”
“Mostly twenty- or thirty-somethings.”
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. You know you fucked up. You don’t need me to tell you that.”
She did. She had known it was a dangerous risk that she should have run from.
“I miss it, Hammer.”
“What do you want from me? You want me to give you permission to sing? You’re a grown woman now. The ball is in your court. You have to figure out how you want to play it or let it go forever. I’ve always let that be your decision. I won’t try to influence you one way or another. You’re the one who has to pay the price for what you took, so you should be the one who decides to use it.”
“I don’t have it—”
“Ginny … you might not have it in your possession, but you know where you hid it.”
“No, I don’t—”
“Then, if you don’t, I’d start trying harder to remember. Either that or don’t sing in public anymore.”