AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Absolutely not!” Ivy explodes from behind me. “Are you stupid?”
I glance back to find Waylon standing hunched with his head hanging between his shoulders.
Shaking my head, I turn and call out to Mason, “Hey!”
He stutters over his next step, but stops, and turns toward me.
I gesture at my car, the one he just nearly stormed past, and he frowns.
“Get inside,” I tell him.
His bleary blue eyes meet mine, and I wait for him to be a dumbass too.
Jaw working, he nods, and lowers his head as he makes his way toward the passenger side. My shoulders drop with relief.
“Waylon!”
Damnit.
Turning, I find Waylon walking toward the girls we spotted earlier, who are still hanging out and smoking by the black Dodge pick-up. When they see him, they straighten, and flash him smiles. One holds out a bottle of what looks to be whiskey, which he immediately takes, slugging it back.
Mouth tightening, I glance at Ivy who stands there fuming. Under that though, I don’t miss the worry in her eyes. The resignation. Nothing short of knocking him out and dragging him away is going to get him out of here. The harder we push, the more he’ll pull away. And that’s the last thing we want. With either of them.
Plus, with today being the day it is…
Well, what right do we have telling him how he should cope? How either of them should cope.
And you? What about you?
My mind flashes with images of open roads and spinning darkness. Followed immediately by a different urge—one I’ve ground down to basically non-existent since that day Mason made me promise never again.
For him, for him, for him, I tell myself.
If only I could make him return the promise.
Vodka. Pills. A blade.
It’s all the same.
Just different roads to the same destination: peace.
He’s such a damn hypocrite.
Clearing my throat, I call out tiredly, “Get outta here, Ivy.”
She snaps her gaze to me, looking like she’s about to argue. Behind me I hear a car door slam shut, and I blow out a sigh of relief. Her attention drifts just past me, a frown marring her forehead.
Following her gaze, I turn to look over my shoulder to peer through the driver’s side window. Through the shadows, I can just barely make out Mason in the passenger seat, hunched over, head bent to the dash.
My heart stutters.
“You guys go on.”
At the sound of Waylon’s voice calling out, we both turn to face him. He’s got an arm around each girl, the bottle hanging from between his fingers. Lip curled in a familiar smirk that showcases a single dimple winking out into the night. Yet it does nothing at all to counteract the hard, pained glint in his hazel eyes.
He shrugs. “We’ve got a ride coming.” The girls nod, confirming as much. “I’ll be fine.”
Ivy’s fingers are curled at her sides, but after a moment, she gives a stiff nod, before stomping off toward her car without so much as a goodbye, or a glance back.
