Bad Company

Family Reunion - Part 1

Defeat weighed heavily on my chest as I stared upwards at the ceiling glowing softly with the sun's morning light. A calming mixture of pink and orange kissed the foot of the bed, and I had watched it seep into the sheets ever since I had been jolted from my sleep by the same reoccurring nightmare.

Oddly enough, it never started the same way, but it always boasted the same fear-inducing ending of blood blooming on my chest as I fell backwards off of a cliff, my hair violently whipping around my face as accepted defeat bit into my heart, and, to me, that was the most terrifying part of the dream. I never struggled or flailed or even cried out for someone to help me. No, I simply let the air swallow me whole.

A low whine snapped my attention from my thoughts. Almost immediately a paw swiped beneath the crack of my bedroom door, and I couldn't help but release a laugh as I staggered out of bed to allow Bandit access to the room.

Colt had warned me last night as we ate leftover pasta that Bandit hated closed doors. He never really knew why but never questioned it, so he let Bandit sleep with him on his bed as a compromise. Honestly, I was a little disheartened to hear that I couldn't let the little snuggle bug stay with me, but who was I to argue?

Again, Bandit whined sadly and swiped at the hardwood floors. "Alright," I chuckled humorously, opening the door. Sitting at the entrance with his chest puffed in regal pride was the German Shepherd puppy with his tongue hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"You're too much, you know that?" I teased him, scooping down to take him into my arms.
Bandit immediately began squirming, so I set him on my bed before sauntering over to my recently stocked dresser almost overflowing with the incomprehensible amount of t-shirts I owned. What could I say? I was a girl of comfort.

My eyes raked over the several logo riddled shirts I inherited from my dad before plucking out my favorite one along with a pair of grey jeans and white Keds. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and dug my hands deeply into the back pockets of my jeans, studying my outfit in the mirror. The tight fabric of my jeans had my confidence wavering for a second, but I quickly shook off my doubts and left the room with an impatient puppy wiggling madly in my arms, releasing tiny grunts and whines until I placed him back on floor once we were on the main level.

Immediately, he took off sprinting into the kitchen where the back door stood ajar about an inch. Colt's deep voice seeped inside where I could manage to pick out bits and pieces of a hushed conversation.

"She's alright, Dusty." Colt's voice reminded me of a smooth whiskey as his steady tone soothed Uncle Dusty's worries. "Yes, I triple checked her before I let her fall asleep last night." Silence. "I've dealt with so much worse than a concussion, and I've helped with much worse than a concussion. In fact, I've seen men with--well then don't question my abilities and I won't bring up examples. You know, sometimes I think you forget about my past, John."

Confusion drew my eyebrows together as I heard Dusty's real name used in the discussion. Dusty hated his name with a burning passion, so hearing Colt say it sent a bolt of confusion into my heart; although, it only lasted for a few seconds. Of course Colt would know it, he was the President of the club.

"You think she's ready for that? Alright, I'll trust your judgement, Dusty, but if anyone tries anything--am I allowed to finish my sentence?" A deep chuckle broke the morning air. "It's too early for your smart ass mouth, Dusty. You know I can't answer that. Look, we'll swing by later so she can meet everyone, alright? Good. We'll see you then."