We’re outside alone, just the two of us; the noise dims around us. My heart slams against my ribs, and all the color drains from my face. I desperately look past him at the door to the bar—safety—but he blocks my path forcing me to stay put. There’s nowhere to go and my back is up against the fence. He moves in closer.
“Huck, let me go. Now,” I say through clenched teeth.
The tendons in his neck pulse as he sneers at me. His face is so close that our noses are almost touching.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Sorrel. You’re mine. When are you gonna get that through that pretty little head of yours? No one else can have you except me.”
Turning my face, I flinch. “I’ll never be yours,” I whisper.
His hands are reaching for me. But before he can grab me, a large hand grabs him by the shoulder, hauling him away.
“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Denton growls. Huck twists out of his grip, turning to face him.
“You again,” he says, baring his teeth.
They reach for each other and begin to struggle. Next thing I know, everyone in the bar is pouring out around us. Johnny jumps on Huck's back.
Luke, Huck’s friend, comes out of nowhere and is pulling Johnny off Huck. Charli swoops me away from the fight. Blows are thrown left and right. It’s an all-out brawl.
The bartender comes out carrying a wooden bat, slamming it on one of the outdoor tables. “Break it up now! I’m calling the cops,” she yells. Len is behind her moments later.
Everyone is running through the now open back gate, hopping into their pickups and taking off before more deputies arrive. Dragging Huck away, Luke saves his ass once again.
Denton limps over to where Charli and I are hiding.
A flash of bright truck lights aims toward us. The truck is driving straight at the open gate—engine revving. It turns at the last minute before they plow through the fence and us.
“This isn’t over!” Huck slurs, pointing a finger at Denton as they drive away.
“Okay, someone needs to get that guy in AA and anger management asap,” Johnny quips, like we weren’t all just about to get ran over.
“Fucking Kenzington, I’m calling him in before he kills someone,” Len says to the bartender as they turn and go back inside the bar.
I swallow my fear and stand, voice steady despite the pounding in my chest.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you,” I say to Denton.
He takes a step forward, favoring his left leg.
Charli’s hand is still tight in mine. “I’ll be okay,” I reassure her.
She nods, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’ll let Sutton know you’re heading home.”
I give her a nod before she turns and goes back inside the bar.
Throwing Denton’s arm over my shoulder, we hobble over to my truck.
“What about your crew?” I ask him.
“They can get a ride back with Sutton and Ryder.”
“Okay, I’ll drive?—”
“No, ma’am, you drank. My right leg still works. I can drive.”
He’s right. I probably shouldn’t be driving.
We slide into the pickup in silence and Denton turns over the key, the engine roaring to life. A velvety blanket of darkness settles over the town. I've driven this road more times than I can count, but it never gets any less eerie at night.
