The Seven 3: The Life Wish

Autore

Linda Kage

Letto da

279K

Capitoli

Autore

Linda Kage

Letto da

279K

Capitoli

Atleti Drammatico Fantasy e paranormale Fantasmi

What if you fall in love with a ghost?

After four shots of cinnamon schnapps and something called heaven in a cup, Raina Bollen finally feels brave enough to meet her crush, star quarterback Foster Union.

Except her rideshare is involved in a car accident on the way there. Now she's stuck in a coma, and her soul gets severed from her body, only to tether itself to none other than Foster himself.

Foster never wanted some random spirit to suddenly start riding shotgun in his life, but it doesn't take long for Raina's bubbly infectious personality to win him over. She's just the breath of fresh air he craves because he's been in need of some serious living himself.

Now if he could only figure out how to help her live in return.

Prologue

Foster

March 2014

“So how have your meetings been going?” Mom asked as she reversed our family car down the driveway.

I gave a distracted, “Fine,” from the passenger seat before I twisted around to check on my siblings in the back.

One of Breydan’s chubby bare feet greeted me immediately as it kicked above her backward-facing carrier. Next to her, four-year-old Reed sat in the middle on his booster as he lifted himself higher to look out the front window, and I could hear Amy directly behind me, humming the birthday tune under her breath.

All were present and accounted for.

Exhaling in relief, I turned to face forward again just as Mom reached the street and geared the car into drive.

“Well, you haven’t had an episode since you started attending them,” she said. “Do you think the group’s been helping?”

With a shrug, I mumbled, “I guess.”

I prayed she would buy that answer, anyway, because no way did I want her to know I’d merely learned how to hold everything in until I was locked alone somewhere where no one could see me flip out.

It was important to her that I stop having panic attacks, and I wasn’t about to let her down. I had to be perfect and do everything right. We weren’t losing anyone else because of me. Not ever again.

“You’ve talked about that day, then?” she pressed as she stopped at a light. I shuddered with dread, and cold sweat trailed down my back. “You’ve opened up—”

“Mama?” Amy’s voice broke in. “How long is Foster gonna be gone in his meetin’ today?”

She was impatient for me to get through today’s session. Mom had promised her we’d eat lunch at Dairy Queen as soon as I was done.

“Sweetie, I’m talking to Foster right now, but his meeting will only take ninety minutes. That’s an hour and a half. We can wait an hour and a half, no problem. Besides, it’d be too early for lunch right now, anyway.”

“Snack, snack,” Breydan babbled, hearing the mention of food.

“But what’re we going to do for a whole hour and a half?” Amy whined.

“I thought we’d go to the park,” Mom answered as she reached behind her seat. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Still driving with her other hand, she pulled up an oversized bag and tugged a plastic container full of cereal from it. Then, handing it into the back, she said, “Reed, sweetie, can you give Breydan some of these? One at a time, and yes, you can have a few too. Just… don’t eat all of them yourself.”

“Which park?” Amy demanded. “The one with the big slide?”

“That one’s too far away, hon. We’re just going to go to the one right around the corner from—”

Reed pulled the lid off the cereal container with enough gusto to send Cheerios flying everywhere.

“Sakes alive,” Mom cried while Amy screamed at Reed for getting cereal in her hair, and a panicked Breydan started calling, “Snack, snack,” even louder as if she sensed she wasn’t going to get anything to eat.

Reed’s bottom lip quivered before he burst into tears, wailing, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Foster, could you…?” Mom begged with helpless desperation.

“Got it,” I assured as I clicked off my seat belt and crawled halfway into the back to snag the cereal container from Reed’s hand. I fed two Cheerios to Breydan, which seemed to pacify her for the time being, and I quickly picked pieces from Amy’s hair before feeding them to Reed, who thought this was hilarious.

After giving Amy a fresh handful of cereal from the container so she could eat too, I fed Breydan two more pieces and shimmied my way back into the front passenger seat with the cereal in my possession.

“Thank you,” Mom breathed in relief as I tossed piece after piece into the backseat for my three little siblings to catch and eat. “I should’ve just given the container to you in the first place.”

“Tee,” Breydan chirped cheerfully from her seat as we stopped at a stop sign. “Tee.” I glanced back to see her finger pointing out the window of the car. “Fo-Fo, wook. A tee!”

Fo-Fo was what she called me, so I said, “Yeah, I see the tree. It’s big, isn’t it?”

“Big,” she agreed solemnly.

“Why does Foster go to meetings, anyway?” Amy wanted to know. “Why not anyone else?”

My stomach burned in humiliation because I was the only one who had to attend a grief group. I was the only one of us who was still messed up. But Breydan hadn’t been born yet when it had happened; Reed had only been two—too young to remember Hayes—or the accident—and Amy never really understood where one of her brothers had gone. She’d gotten over his sudden absence with surprising ease.

As I waited for Mom to answer, wondering what embarrassing thing she was about to reveal about me, Reed announced, “I wanna go to a meeting too. With Foster.”

“You can’t, sweetie,” Mom said. “You’d be too young for his group.”

And besides, he wasn’t grieving.

“But I wanna go.”

“So do I,” Amy spoke up. “Why is he the only one who gets to go?”

Gets to? Was she serious? I’d gladly let her go in my place. Anytime.

“Snack!” Breydan commanded.

As I fed everyone in the backseat another round of cereal, Mom pressed a palm to her brow, and then she avoided answering my younger siblings by turning up the radio and having Reed and Amy sing along to Katy Perry’s “Roar” with her.

Thankfully, that kept them occupied until she pulled to the curb in front of the center.

Knowing she couldn’t leave the others and walk in with me, I waved goodbye while I opened my door. But as soon as I began to slide out, Mom called, “Foster, wait.”

I paused in confusion as she climbed from the driver’s seat to hurry around and meet me on the curb.

My heart started to pound with worry, thinking she might walk me to the front door after all, leaving the other three behind—where they could escape and get run over by a car or start choking on cereal with no one around to give them the Heimlich maneuver. Panic spread under my skin like a rash.

But instead of trying to escort me anywhere, Mom merely hugged me. “Try to have fun, at least,” she encouraged before kissing my hair. “You said you liked the other boys in your group, right?”

When I nodded, she smiled in relief. “Well, maybe you could make friends with one or two of them.”

I swallowed down a wince because we weren’t that kind of group. Yeah, the others seemed cool and all, but the only thing we had in common was our complete reluctance to be stuck in a meeting together for ninety minutes every week.

“You never answered whether you’ve talked about that day with them yet.”

Shame burst through me, heating my cheeks, and I had to bow my head in contrition because I couldn’t lie to my mother, even though telling her the truth seemed even worse.

But honesty got the best of me, and I gruffly admitted, “Not yet.”

“Oh, Foster.” She sounded disappointed as she swept a hand over my hair. “You’ve been going for a month now. Why haven’t you talked about it, sweetie?”

I lifted one shoulder, not sure how to explain how paralyzing and awful it would be for me to actually speak words detailing that day.

When I glanced up, I said, “No one else talks about their trauma.”

But Mom didn’t care about the others the way she cared about me, and I could see the worry and distress in her eyes, making my guilt skyrocket.

I hated to worry her. I hated to disappoint her. The last time I’d demanded any kind of special treatment from her, I’d lost a brother. I never wanted her to have to go out of her way for me ever again.

So when she murmured, “At least try it, won’t you?” I bobbed my head, determined to be a good, obedient son. To do everything right and make her proud.

She smiled in relief and added, “You never know. Maybe if you tell your story, it’ll prompt the other boys to open up as well. You could help everyone by going first.”

“Maybe,” I said, not believing that at all but wanting to make her happy.

From the car, Amy started to knock on the window, trying to get our attention. I could hear Breydan’s crying through the glass.

With a tired sigh, Mom brushed her hand over my hair yet again and said, “You better go. I love you.”

“Love you too,” I said and hurried off so she could return to the others. At the door, I glanced back, but she’d already pulled away from the curb and was halfway down the street.

With a heavy breath, I entered the building, my gut tightening as cool, indoor air swept over me.

At the reception counter, I showed the woman the badge I had hanging from a lanyard around my neck, and she consulted her computer, murmuring, “Group seven…group seven…aha. Here you are. You’re in the blue room again today. Do you remember which one that is, hon?”

I nodded, “Yes, ma’am. I remember.”

“Go on back, then.”

When she waved me on, I clomped across the big, open lobby toward a hallway on the right. After our first meeting in the enormous atrium located in the heart of the center, every group had broken off to meet in smaller classrooms each week.

As soon as I reached the blue room, which was decorated like a big aquarium, I opened the door, and a familiar voice called, “Hey, Foster. Think fast.”

A football came lobbing my way, so I reached up and snatched it from the air without thought.

“Ooh, nice catch,” Matt, our group’s guidance counselor, praised. “You have the makings to be an awesome receiver, my man. I can feel it. Here. Toss it back.”

I knew exactly why he’d brought the ball today. He’d made us go around the circle last week to name things we liked doing because absolutely no one was ready to talk about the real reason we were here. And I had admitted that I enjoyed tossing a football around with my dad.

Matt was trying hard to connect with us, which only made me feel that much worse about not sharing anything I knew I should. I didn’t like disappointing him either.

I whizzed the ball back as I entered the room, and Matt leaped to the side to catch it, only to suck in a surprised breath and shake out his hand as if I’d burned his palm with my throw. “Wow. Okay, maybe quarterback is your calling.”

“I want to try,” Keene spoke up, lifting his hands for a turn at the football.

Matt shrugged. “Alright.” He pitched the ball in an easy underhanded toss toward the only other member of my group who had arrived before me.

So the three of us flung the ball around as others—Damien, Thane, Parker, and then Alec—slowly trickled in and joined the fun that somehow morphed into a game of hot potato.

When Hudson arrived last, Matt regained possession of the football and propped it against his hip, saying, “Looks like everyone’s here. We can get started now.”

Which meant it was time to talk about miserable, serious stuff.

To my left, the youngest two—Keene and Alec—grumbled over the end of the game, and Matt lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

“What? Y’all want to keep tossing the ball around?”

Well, duh. Anything was better than sharing our feelings.

Keene and Alec cheered, and Matt nodded to himself as if he’d come up with a brilliant idea. “Okay. Alright. Let’s make it part of the share circle, shall we? Whoever I toss the ball to… you tell me what kind of day you’re having.”

On my right side, Hudson snickered and leaned my way, whispering, “How did I know that was going to happen?”

Across the room, Matt tossed the football to Parker.

At twelve years old, Parker was technically the oldest member of our group, but he hadn’t said a single word since joining, which was why he always came with his best friend, Thane, who was a year older than him and did all his talking for him.

Arms folded over his chest, Parker dodged his face to the side and let the ball sail past his shoulder. Then he narrowed his eyes at Matt, letting him know today was not going to be the day he decided to speak either.

“I got it,” Thane told us good-naturedly before he jogged over to fetch the ball that had bounced against the back wall.

As Thane picked up the ball and juggled it between his hands, he returned to the circle, announcing, “Parker’s doing good today. My mom made us his favorite egg muffin sandwiches for breakfast, and then he beat me at a game of basketball in my backyard.”

“Awesome.” Matt nodded in approval. “Do you like basketball?” he asked Parker directly.

“It’s more my thing,” Thane spoke up. “But he’s way better at it than me.”

“It always seems to go that way, doesn’t it?” Matt said with a sigh. “We’re never as good as we want to be at the things we love most. I wanted to be a guitarist in a band. I even took lessons, yet I still can’t play a song to save my life.” Motioning toward the ball, he told Thane, “Why don’t you pick who goes next?”

“Sure.” Thane glanced around the room, and we all shrank a step back.

Since Damien was standing next to him, Thane tossed the football his way.

Damien was the second quietest one in the group. He only talked whenever it was absolutely necessary.

Fumbling when he caught the ball, Damien pulled it to his chest as if clinging to a teddy bear. And there, he gulped miserably.

“How’re you doing today, Damien, my man?” Matt asked, trying to sound encouraging.

Damien bobbed his head once, then mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“Well… Fine’s better than lousy,” Matt allowed before splaying out his hand in welcome. “Pick who’s next.”

Damien glanced around, looking panicked, and everyone else appeared to be as unwilling to receive the ball as I felt. But my mother’s words waffled through me.

Maybe if you tell your story, it’ll prompt the other boys to open up as well. You could help everyone by going first.

Mom wanted me to talk; Damien looked as if he was a split second away from crying; the others didn’t want anything to do with the football now that it wasn’t a game; Matt merely wanted us to participate; and I wanted the misery to stop.

My heartbeat was pounding through my ears, and talking was the last thing I thought I could handle, but I was determined to make everyone happy by ending their suffering. So, biting the bullet, I lifted trembling hands to silently ask for the ball next.

Damien’s eyes flared with relief, and he tossed the doom my way.

I caught it, and my throat went immediately dry.

“Yes! Football Foster,” Matt cheered, delighted that I’d volunteered for a turn. “My boy! How’re you doing today?”

Everything inside me wanted to say that I was fine, just like Damien had. But the hope and worry in my mom’s eyes as she stroked a hand over my hair was stuck solidly in my head. I couldn’t let her down. So I blurted the truth as fast as I could to get it out there and over with.

“I—I’m nervous,” I admitted. “Like really, really worried b-because it’s my sister’s birthday today. She’s turning six. We’re supposed to go eat lunch at Dairy Queen after this. That’s her favorite place ever. She wants one of those ice cream cakes, and she’s super excited. But I just—I can’t stop worrying.”

There. I’d said it. I’d said what had been bothering me since the moment I’d woken this morning with Amy jumping on my bed to announce that it was her big day.

My head felt a little light and woozy from actually announcing it aloud. But strangely, some pressure seemed to be released from my chest.

Exhaling heavily, I glanced around the circle, only to find everyone blinking at me as if I’d just spoken a foreign language.

Even Matt tipped his head in confusion as if trying to figure me out.

“What’re you worried about?” he asked softly, and a heavy load of dread dropped straight into the pit of my abdomen because—crap—none of them knew.

And they didn’t know because I’d never told them.

But the very idea of telling them now made me feel sick to my stomach. I’d already revealed so much by letting them know how I really felt. Wasn’t that progress enough?

Everyone was still watching me, though, and I couldn’t let them down. Everything relied on me opening up and telling my story. I just had to do it already.

“I…” My voice went hoarse, so I paused to wet my mouth and clear my throat. “I’m worried be—because my brother—my brother, Hayes—he died on my birthday. Birthdays mean death.”

“Oh shit,” Hudson whispered sympathetically beside me. He nudged a fist into my arm to comfort me, and when I glanced at him, that was all the boost I needed.

I turned back to Matt, my dry eyes burning and my heart racing. “It was my ninth birthday, and the only thing I wanted to do that day was go to the beach and swim and build the biggest freaking sandcastle fort ever.”

“Yeah…” Keene bobbed his head in approval over my birthday wishes.

I winced at him and swallowed, then returned my attention to Matt. “Mom didn’t want to go. Even though it was a Saturday, my dad was working, and she was five months pregnant with my sister, Breydan, with four kids on top of that to keep track of.”

“That would be hard,” Matt admitted quietly with an understanding nod.

His sympathy for my mom only made my throat burn, however.

I hadn’t had any mercy on her. I’d just wanted to go to the beach.

Why hadn’t I cared about what she’d needed?

Wiping the wetness on my palms onto my jeans, I heard my voice wobble as I added, “I—I kept pestering her and pestering her until she finally gave in, and we all loaded into the car.”

My breathing started to accelerate as I remembered everything as clearly as if it’d been yesterday, even though twenty months had passed since that day.

“The weather was perfect. The water felt great, and my castle fort was looking epic. But then my little sister had to go to the bathroom, and Mom had to take my two-year-old brother, Reed, with them. She asked me to keep an eye on Hayes. But he wanted to go with her, and I wanted to work on my fort, not take care of him.” I hugged myself, feeling an episode coming on. To fight it off, I rocked back and forth and ground my teeth, but my breathing picked up speed, anyway. “Why didn’t I just help her and say I would watch him? Why didn’t I do what she asked?”

On my left, Parker clutched his chest and turned toward Thane, seeking solace. As Thane wrapped a supportive arm around his shoulders, Alec clapped his hands over his ears, having trouble dealing with my story. Keene and Damien looked scared to death, cowering backward more and more with each sentence. And Hudson blew out a breath, shaking his head at me as if to say, Damn, man.

Turning back to Matt, I admitted, “If I—I—I’d just watched him like she’d wanted, she wouldn’t have had to keep track of three kids at once, and Hayes wouldn’t have gone out into the water by himself without her noticing before it was too late. He—he’d be a-alive today if I’d just—if I’d just—”

“Stop,” Keene finally begged, holding up both hands to block me. “Oh my God, please stop.”

I shut up abruptly, more than happy to stop, and when I glanced around me, everyone looked more traumatized than when they’d come into the room.

Speaking up hadn’t helped anything. It had only made things worse.

I’d messed up again.

Why did I just keep messing everything up?

“I—I’m sorry,” I choked out, breathing uncontrollably now. “I’m sorry.” My vision was completely screwed, and the panic attack was fully upon me, bombarding me with a vengeance.

When black dots blinded me, I sank to my knees, trying to ground myself, but the dizziness swept in.

“I’m sorry.” I clutched my head and tried to catch a decent breath, but none came. I was suffocating…

Dying.

Just like Hayes.

Was this how it had felt for him to drown?

“Don’t just stand there; do something!” I heard Thane shout before two hands gripped my shoulders, and he murmured to me, “Just breathe, man. Breathe. Nice and slow. In… out…” Then, he hollered, “Matt!”

“I—I’ll go get help. A nurse,” Matt announced before the door slammed, leaving me alone with my fellow grief group members.

“Well, that motherfucker is completely worthless,” Hudson said dryly.

In front of me, Thane asked me to look up into his eyes. When I could manage that much at least, he nodded and smiled encouragingly. “Good. Good job. You’re doing great.” Then he waved a hand around him. “Come on, guys. Gather close. Let him know he’s not alone. It’s okay. We’re here with you. We got you, Foster.”

And just like that, Alec appeared at one side to silently take my hand while Damien took the other.

Behind me, Keene gripped my shoulders and massaged them, even as he said, “How is this going to keep him from dying?”

“He’s not dying,” Thane said as Parker appeared over one of his shoulders and Hudson the other. “He’s just having a panic attack. All he has to do is calm down, and he’ll be okay again.”

“I—I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp, humiliated to the core. This had to be the absolute most embarrassing moment of my life. “I—I can’t seem to stop them,” I tried to explain, hoping they didn’t think I was too much of a freak to be around now. “They just—they come out of nowhere at the worst times ever. And they’re why my parents forced me to come here. I’m the only one in my family who’s still messed up.”

“You’re not messed up,” Thane assured. “You’re grieving. Like Matt said, it’s a process.”

I swear, Thane had to be the only person who actually listened to the crap Matt spewed.

Shaking my head, I refused to accept his words. “Why am I the only one having panic attacks, though?”

I should be doing better. It was worrying my parents, and they already had enough to worry about. I wanted to stop being such a big, damn problem.

“Everyone grieves in different ways,” Thane told me. “And this must be your way.”

“Well, I don’t like this way,” I admitted adamantly. “I want a different way. How do I make them stop?”

“Just… Turn your mind to something else,” Hudson suggested.

I scowled at him, irritated by how easy he made it sound. “How?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged cluelessly. “I like to jack off to distract myself when my thoughts start to get too sad.”

“Jack… off?” Keene repeated with a furrowed brow. “What’s that?”

“Oh my God,” Thane groaned before pointing at Hudson and sternly commanding, “Don’t you dare tell him!”

But Alec waved Thane quiet as he insisted, “No. Tell us.”

Behind Thane, Parker slapped a hand to his forehead as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, which meant he knew what jack-off meant too.

I started to feel stupid for not knowing what they were talking about until Damien quietly mumbled, “I—I don’t know what it means either.”

Well, thank goodness. Damien was, like, five months older than me, and if he didn’t know, then I didn’t feel so dumb for not knowing either.

So I rushed to say, “Neither do I.”

The three oldest boys glanced at each other until Thane huffed out a sound of defeat and waved his hand. “Oh, whatever,” he muttered.

“So it’s like this…” Hudson said, immediately whirling back to the four of us who were eagerly awaiting an answer. “Make sure you’re somewhere private so no one catches you, behind a locked door and all that. Then, grab your schlong.”

“Do what?” Keene demanded, his eyes wide with shock.

“Grab your pecker,” Hudson reiterated and then mimicked grabbing himself. “And you tug on that shit, back and forth, until it starts getting all hard and long.”

I frowned in confusion as he pretended to fist his penis repeatedly. “And you keep pumping and pumping until…”

“Until when?” Alec whispered, looking dazed.

Hudson smiled with knowing relish as he stopped demonstrating the act. “Trust me; you’ll know when to stop. The grand finale’s the best part.”

Keene, Alec, Damien, and I glanced at each other in confusion, while Parker looked as if he was going to start laughing—something I’d definitely never seen him do—and Thane kept shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe he’d just allowed this to happen.

“We are so going to hell for this,” he chanted to himself. “We just taught two nine-year-olds, a ten-year-old, and an eleven-year-old how to masturbate. Oh Lord, forgive me.”

Ignoring him, we turned back to Hudson. “What’s the grand finale?” Keene begged.

But Hudson never got to answer. Matt came flying back into the room with a nurse on his heels.

When he found the seven of us clustered together and gossiping, he pulled up short and blinked at me in confusion.

“Oh! Well, he seems to be fine now,” he announced, as if he’d always had control of the situation.

Remembering that I had been in the midst of an epic breakdown, I patted my chest in surprise to check for myself that I was fine, and I was startled to realize that my breathing had returned to normal and everything felt perfectly okay.

My grief group had talked me through the storm.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I told the adults as my gaze strayed gratefully to the six boys who’d just saved me in a way I’d never been saved before. “But I’m better now. I’m lots better, actually.”