Chapter 10

Morgan saw the stone around her neck start to glow. She could feel the strength of it pulling at her. She looked wildly to Buck, wanting him to tell her she was imagining this. She grabbed at the necklace, her fingers stinging from the cold stone.

A roaring filled her ears and she reached out for Buck, for Chris, for Ezra. Anyone to hold onto as the world spun, the ground dropped out, everything familiar disappeared in a blinding light.

She screamed for Buck, but couldn't hear it over the roar, only felt it ripping her throat raw. She clawed out for a hold on anything but her hands only hit emptiness. She was alone, reeling and falling with no landing.

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Cheyenne jolted awake. She pushed herself up to sitting, disoriented in the dark of her room.

Another crash from the other room. A yell. Cheyenne stumbled out of bed, her legs tangling in the bedding. She righted herself and stumbled toward the door. She opened it and someone shouted for her to watch out.

A body collided with hers, a grunt coming from the man who had his arms around her

"You ok?"

She recognized Buck's voice in the dark. His arms tightened around her. Something hit him again and another grunt was pummeled from him. He angled himself to take another hit.

Cheyenne winced when she heard the solid thud of something striking him.

Cheyenne didn't fight against his arms, but she tried to see around him.

Furniture was scraping across the floor, pictures flung from walls, but instead of landing, flew through the room. Another framed picture slammed into Buck's back, but he didn't loosen his grip on her.

"Morgan," she heard Ezra saying. "Morgan, wake up."

Looking over Buck's arm, she could see Ezra shaking Morgan, trying to wake her.

The smoke alarms started blaring in spite of no smoke to be seen. The television set flashed on, a radio blared. Cheyenne winced at the cacophony. She saw Chris move to shield Morgan from everything flying wildly around the room.

"Morgan!" Ezra said, more urgently, shaking her more firmly.

With a gasp that Cheyenne saw more than heard over the chaos, Morgan's eyes flew open. She instinctively reached out a hand and clutched at Ezra's arm, her eyes wide, panicked. She looked around until her eyes landed on Chris.

Cheyenne saw Chris meet her eyes and Morgan's frantic movements slowed.

Buck shifted to avoid a table lamp flying toward him, but the lamp fell to the rug with a thud before it reached him. The chairs abruptly stopped their rattling movements across the floor, the pictures dropped mid-flight.

Cheyenne sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. Buck's arms were still around her.

He leaned back enough to look down at her, not loosening his hold on her yet. "You alright? Nothing hit you, did it?"

Cheyenne shook her head. "I'm fine." She frowned at him. "Are you?"

An easy grin split his face, in spite of the worry that remained in his eyes. "I've been hit with worse than a few pictures and decorations. Sure beats the bullet of a Colt Navy."

Cheyenne frowned.

"That was a joke," Buck assured her. "I'm fine."

Buck loosened his hold on her then and Cheyenne stepped back. Rather than think about how secure his hold had felt, she crossed to the television and clicked it off, then the radio. She couldn't reach the smoke alarms, but Buck saw what she was reaching for and reached up to push the button for her.

The silence rang in her ears. She looked around the room. The men all looked no worse for the wear. Josiah was picking up the broken pieces of one of the picture frames. JD looked slightly bewildered, hair sticking up in all directions.

"I—I need air," Morgan said. She scrambled from the couch bed toward the door.

Buck started toward her, but Ezra blocked him so subtly Cheyenne wasn't sure Buck realized what he was doing.

"I can see to her," Ezra said.

Buck started shaking his head. "I need to make sure she's alright."

Cheyenne had seen the panic in Morgan's eyes as she ran for the door. But she also could see the tension in Buck as he tried to get around Ezra. She couldn't imagine Buck was going to do much to calm Morgan. Or that Morgan's current state was going to settle Buck down.

"Buck," Cheyenne said. "Can you help me with this." She gestured vaguely to the mess at their feet, the furniture in disarray, some chairs toppled over.

Buck looked torn, looking toward the door, then at Cheyenne.

"I'll let you know if Miss Wilmington needs your assistance," Ezra said, then went to the door before Buck could argue.

Cheyenne felt a prick of guilt for keeping Buck from his sister. But she also knew how much she didn't want her own brother around her when she was trying not to fall apart, how much worse he could make things.

Buck cast a worried look toward the door, but started righting furniture. Cheyenne saw Chris watching the door, too. Morgan had no shortage of men looking out for her. A stab of regret hit Cheyenne. She wondered what it was like to have a brother and his friends making sure you were safe. Instead of being the ones who put you in danger.

She shoved that thought away and went to the kitchen for a broom.

"Anyone hurt?" Nathan asked.

Cheyenne listened to the men's quiet conversation as they worked, finding a strange companionship in their presence even if she didn't say anything herself.

#

Morgan clambered down the stairs and out onto the grass. The grass was cold under her bare feet and she focused on that sensation. Something real. Something that made sense.

A wind swept through the yard, tugging at Morgan's loose hair. It built until it was roaring through the yard, whipping her hair into her face, bending trees over in the gale.

She had to get herself under control. Morgan fisted her hands and clenched her jaw, trying to shove down memories of the nightmare.

The wind died down, even as the door to the garage opened, then slammed shut again, a potted plant near the garage shattering against the sidewalk. She looked up to see Ezra standing a few feet from her.

She opened her mouth, then shut it, not sure what she wanted to say to her brother's friend who had become one of her closest friends.

"I think…" she started. She fisted her hands tighter into fists. Her nails dug into her palms. The lawn furniture behind her sailed across the yard and she flinched, but Ezra didn't take his eyes off her. "I think I'm doing that," she said, her voice shaky. She hated saying it out loud. Hated thinking it might be true.

Ezra looked at her evenly. "I would agree," he surprised her by saying.

"You knew?" she asked, disbelief making her words sharp.

"I suspected," he said.

"What am I supposed to do?" Morgan demanded. The garage door slammed wildly behind her, the furniture that had been flung away came back toward them and Ezra ducked. Morgan rammed her fingers into her tangled hair. "I'm going to hurt someone!"

"No," Ezra said, surprisingly calm as he faced her and whatever she was capable of. "You're going to learn to control it."

"Control it?" she asked, her voice taking on a shrill edge. "Ezra, things are breaking and hitting people and I don't know how I'm doing it, but I am!"

"And we're going to figure it out," he said firmly.

Morgan wanted to believe him.

She flinched as the garage door slammed one last time, then met his eyes, worry and dread fighting for space in her chest. "You won't tell Buck?" she asked. "Or Chris?"

If Ezra was surprised by the request, he didn't show it. "My lips are sealed," he said.

Morgan nodded. Ezra picked up the lawn chairs and righted them, holding one out for her.

In the dark predawn yard, Morgan sank into it, burying her face in her hands. She felt Ezra's hand on her shoulder and tried to focus on that instead of the panic that she was losing all control. Losing her mind.

#

Buck crouched down to get the few plates that hadn't shattered from the floor. Poor Morgan, she had looked real shook up. And who wouldn't be, waking up to find everything and anything flying around the house? He wasn't feeling too calm, himself. Add in the bruises on his back from the hits he took and he was all around more upset than he wanted to say. He wanted to go out to Morgan, but knew how well that would go over with her right now, when she was upset and scared. She had always hated for Buck to see her scared, even as a little tyke. She would put on a brave face for her brother.

He looked over to Cheyenne, sweeping up a broken glass in the kitchen with him.

Buck straightened, bringing the dishes to the sink.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Cheyenne surprised him by breaking the silence.

Buck started to brush off her question, but then saw the sincerity in her eyes. "Just a little bruised up," he said.

Cheyenne's brows knit and Buck saw her glance out to the living room, at the items that had landed hard against his back.

"Are you sure?"

"Right as rain," Buck assured her. He turned around to show her his back, ignoring the pain that came with every movement.

Her quick intake of breath made him think maybe it hadn't reassured her.

"You're bleeding," she said.

Buck craned his neck in a futile effort to see his own back.

Cheyenne set her broom aside and reached for a dishtowel. She paused when she got close to him, looking at him like she was asking permission.

Buck untucked the plaid button up from the jeans he had slept in and lifted it from his back, wincing with the motion.

Cheyenne's hand took the shirt from him, her soft palm brushing against his back as she held the shirt out of the way.

Buck sucked in a breath through his teeth when she found the cuts with the towel, lightly dabbing at them.

"Sorry," Cheyenne said.

Buck shook his head. "Ain't your fault."

Her hand with his shirt grew warm against his skin. Her touch as she cleaned up his back was sure, but soft. Buck closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of a gentle touch. There hadn't been much comfort since they landed here. The sounds of the other men cleaning the living room faded to the background while Cheyenne tended his wounds.

"All done," Cheyenne said, her voice husky.

Buck opened his eyes as she lowered his shirt back into place. He turned around, finding her close to him. Her blue eyes were darker than normal as she looked up at him.

"Thanks," Buck said, his own voice not sounding too clear with her standing so close.

He could feel the way her breathing stilled as they stood there. Could see the way she was trying to puzzle him out.

She looked like she was going to say something, as him something. Buck inclined his head down to encourage her to say whatever was on her mind.

"Hey, Buck," JD called from the other room.

Cheyenne kept looking at him for a beat before she stepped back, looking away.

The loss of her presence wasn't something Buck had expected to feel. She turned away, going back to her broom.

Buck watched her work for a second before turning back to the living room. "What is it, JD?"

The kid was asking something about their guns and the museum. Buck looked back at Cheyenne, her back to him now. Then toward the door that didn't show any sign of Morgan returning yet.

He let out a heavy sigh before turning his attention back to JD.

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