It’s an odd feeling, watching a person acknowledge death's door. I see it reflected in his eyes. They dull. They beg and plead, but all I see in his gaze is Laine cancer-free. Nova keeping a parent in her life. I see his life ending and mine continuing.
I may be going to hell, but I’ll be damn sure I save my angels in the process.
One last blow to his stomach has him folding over. I pounce, straddling his large chest to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze.
One. Two. Three. And then, I twist.
Crack!
It’s over.
I wait long enough for the ref to raise my hand in victory before I rush out of the ring to the locker room. I enter the first stall and heave once before puking my guts up in the moldytoilet. I puke three more times before I’m able to collect myself. The blood, the death, the adrenaline—it's all too much.
There’s a communal shower, and I stumble into it. I can’t stand to have his blood on me for one second longer. My body shakes, the crash hitting me harder than expected. The adrenaline wore off just as fast as it hit, but it still left its mark. My vision blurs while I scrub my skin raw of his blood, my hands trembling the whole time.I will not break today,I chant in my head. Nausea rises in my throat, and I swallow it down. My head spins, and I slump to the floor, letting the water run down my face. I just need a minute before my anxiety seizes my body.
I finally collect myself enough to dry off. Just as I’m sliding on my shoe, I get a text in our ranch hands group chat. It’s a photo of Jake, the class clown of the bunch, with two beers above his head as he attempts to pour them in his mouth, making a mess of his shirt.
That’s not what catches my eye, though. It’s the honey-eyed angel in the background with another man's hand on her, a look of discomfort on her face.
I’m not sure I can blame the adrenaline shot for the red haze seeping into my vision. My shakes and nausea leave me, and rage replaces them. I wasn’t planning on going out tonight, but plans change. I’m driving before I even give it a second thought.
Outlaw, the only dive bar in town, is a fifteen minute drive from here.
I’ll be there in five.
maisie
. . .
ELEVEN
Ches informedme we were hitting up Outlaw tonight. Apparently, it's some old dive bar the locals frequent. Not like they have other options, but it sounds like the place to be on a Friday night. When he texted me to wear my dancing shoes, line dancing was the last thing on my mind. Fresh off the plane from New York, I had bright lights and techno music on the brain. This is the furthest thing from that.
I threw on a full vest pant style jean romper that zips up my cleavage. Modest, but still hot as hell. My hair is in big, loose curls. I chugged an old beer I found stashed in the back of my fridge, finishing just in time before Ches arrived.
My boots tap anxiously as Ches pulls into the gravel parking lot, rambunctious chatter bleeding out through the front door. An Outlaw sign that looks on the brink of burning out flashes sporadically above the door like some old Hollywood prop set decor.
Ches slams his hand out his window, letting out a whistle. The boys piled in the truck bed hoot and pour out the sides. I exit the truck with relief I didn’t have a panic attack. Two drunk men stumble out of the bar, tripping over each other and laughing, fighting over a cigarette. This scene is a long ways awayfrom my norm in New York. It’s the perfect place to start my research.
An arm flops around my shoulders, and I’m dragged into a warm body. I smile at Ches, who shoots me a lopsided grin. “Did I mention I missed ya?”
“Only a million times now,” I tease.
He chuckles, knocking his shoulder into mine before opening the door for me. The ranch hands, whom I now know as: Jake,the attention seeker, Carter,the quiet one, and Lukas,the know it all, filter in behind us beelining for the bar top.
Ches is ripped from my side when an old friend greets him, wanting to catch up. I nod that I’m okay without him and make my way through the busy crowd to grab a drink. There are two female bartenders working in tandem through the large line.
I’ve never been great in social settings, especially when left to my own devices. I check my phone, responding to a text from Lan about when he can come to visit. I eventually make it to the front of the line, the shorter of the two bartenders waving me over.
“Hey, babe, what can I get ya?” she shouts over the loud country music, slapping a towel over her shoulder. She’s wearing a black tank top that saysOutlawand matching black leather shorts. Her pale skin is covered in a mirage of black ink from head to toe besides her face. She has a black cat vibe going, and I’m here for it.
“I guess I’ll start with a shot of whiskey and go from there,” I reply, laughing awkwardly. It’s been a while since I’ve been out while single. Some liquid courage is exactly what the doctor ordered.
Her ocean-blue eyes blow wide before narrowing in playful assessment. “Are you my twin? I think we just became best friends,” she says, shooting me a flirty wink. “Any preference on your poison?"
Her easygoing nature instantly calms me. “Whatever you have for well is fine. I’m not drinking it for taste.”
She shoots me a finger gun, clicking her tongue. “Right answer.” She gets to work, grabbing a rocks glass, flipping the whiskey bottle skillfully before tipping it upside down to pour me a hefty shot. It’s a good thing I didn't drive tonight. If I didn’t know any better, I would assume she’s trying to put me to sleep.
