Gah! What a week in television. Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D got interesting, Sons of Anarchy kicked several plots up a notch, Arrow continues to WOW me, Haven had a kick ass episode and Walking Dead still amazes and creeps me out all at the same time. J I already miss Strike Back, but hopefully a new season will be announced, if it hasn't been already.
Shifting gears, tonight's post is from Zane's Ghost, a novella featuring characters that land in the middle of a moral dilemma. Gray and Kella don't make it easy for each other to get out of the quagmire.
Here's the tagline:
When Zane Warchild goes down in the line of duty, Kella Fine blames herself—after all, she realizes her mistake when she crosses a personal line and steps way back from Zane. Gray Warchild grows quickly tired of Kella wearing her guilt like a badge and putting his brother's ghost between them.
And a snippety peek…
Benton Warchild strode into the room. "Shut up. Both of you." He planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "I've had just about enough of listening to you two slice each other to shreds." He jerked his head toward the long, leather couch. "Sit down. And don't even think about ducking out. You're going to listen—and hear—what I have to say."
Kella trudged to the sofa and chose the spot closest to the door. Gray took his time—his only outward display of defiance—and opted to sit at the opposite end, as far away from Kella as possible. His dad didn't move, standing directly between the objects of his wrath and their exit.
Gray settled back, figuring he might as well get comfortable.
Benton sent a scathing glance in each direction. "What, exactly, is your problem?"
A rhetorical question, neither Gray nor Kella answered.
Benton shook his head. "You two have been dancing around something—something that could be good. Why haven't you done anything about it?"
Kella rolled her eyes and looked longingly towards the door. Gray slouched down and kept his mouth shut. He could explain exactly why he and Kella didn't act on their attraction—because the damn fool woman wouldn't let it happen.
Benton studied each for several moments then sighed. "Because of Zane." He turned his attention to Gray. "Your brother wouldn't give a damn if you pursued something with Kella. You're stupid to think he would."
Gray shot back. "Dad, you don't know everything. Zane and I… we had some issues." And almost every damn one had to do with the other two people in the room.
Benton scoffed. "Bullshit. I know more than you think." He pinned Gray with his gaze. "You never talked to me, but Zane did. About everything."
He left the rest hanging. The old man probably assumed Gray would figure things out eventually and realize what they'd talked about. The biggest problem with the concept? Gray seriously doubted Zane had been completely honest with Benton, which meant Gray would continue to keep his mouth closed.
Benton swung his gaze toward Kella. "And you. You hang onto your guilt so tightly, I'm not sure you'll ever let it go. But I'm telling you to try." He paced back and forth. "Zane's gone. It's not your fault. Get over it." He stopped. "Move the hell on and stop wallowing in self-doubt. It doesn't suit you."
Kella opened her mouth to retort but thought better of it. She clamped her lips together and stared straight ahead. Gray almost let her hang under the glower of his dad, but decided to let her off the hook.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You've made your point, Dad." He glanced up and met his father's gaze. "I think we're done here." Gray made sure the dismissal came through in his tone.
Benton snorted. "Fine. I'm leaving—heading upstairs, in fact," he started for the door, "but if I hear you two going at it again, I'm coming back and I won't be playing referee, I'll be physically kicking you two out the door."
Kella waited until the old man cleared the first landing. "Hard to get a word in with him, isn't it?"
Gray huffed out a breath. "You had your chance." He got up and went to the bar, grabbing a glass from the shelf above it.
Kella followed. "Oh no. Uh uh." She added a tumbler next to his. "Your old man has a way of twisting shit back around and laying open old wounds…" She chose whiskey and poured a healthy amount into the cup. "And jabbing a hot poker into them every damn time."
Gray's lips quirked and he took the bottle from her hands. "Yeah, Dad's kind of notorious for ripping off the scab, says it keeps the sore from festering." He picked up his drink and tossed it back.
Kella slowly sipped. "You know he's wrong, right? Scabs are part of the healing process. Sometimes they leave scars, but those usually fade away."
Gray turned and faced her. "Yours haven't." He held her gaze, waiting for her to look away.
Instead, she took a step closer. "Not yet. But he nailed it. I gotta let go and move forward."
Yep, I'm gonna leave it there. LOL
That's it for this week. Happy reading.