Page 102 of Striking Range

Everett drops to his knees before the couch, his hands falling to my knees even as I try to push him away. “Listen to me. You know me, alright? I would never hurt you. There is a very good explanation here.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I cry. “I don’t want anything. Please, I’m so tired.”

The drowning is speeding up—very soon, I will be dead.

That woman is going to invade my space, stand next to Everett, and try to justify their affair. I can’t cope with that; I’m not ready.

“I know, baby,” he coos, rubbing at my skin. “I know it’s hard right now. Just give it a few minutes, alright? Even if you don’t forgive me, if you don’t believe me, just allow yourself these few minutes. Let me comfort you.”

… Could I do that? Would it be horribly wrong of me to soak him in, one last time? I don’t know anymore. I can’t differentiate between good and bad—I do not trust my own moral compass.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t need a bit of comfort; it seems I’m falling apart. So I tip forward, burying my wet face into the crook of his neck as he wraps me up in his arms.

I wish I could be angrier. I wish that little part of me would come out to play and take away this pathetic sadness. It’s making me weak and dependent.

“That’s it,” Everett murmurs, rubbing at my back. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

He’s got me. At least for now, I am safe here with him. I can allow him to live within my soul for a few moments longer—and if that makes me more horrible than I already am, then so be it.

A knock sounds at the front door, soft and hesitant, a few minutes later.

I jerk back from Everett’s hold, startled by the sound despite anticipating it. She’s here. She is in my home and prepared to dismantle the future I’ve been shaping since I was ten years old.

Everett stands, entering the hallway to let her inside. I can hear the sound of her light footsteps, their soft greetings, and the way my heart is splintering into a million pieces.

Moments later, she’s standing before me, appearing exactly as she did outside of that restaurant.

“Your boyfriend is Skylar Parish?!” Ashley screams, pointing a manicured finger my way with wide eyes.

“Oh,” Everett mutters, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I guess I never told you who he was, huh?”

Ashley groans, plopping down onto the couch next to me. “You’re an idiot, Ev. Let me guess, he found out about your master plan?”

I shift away from her, crossing my arms as I awkwardly ask, “Master plan? What are you talking about?”

My sorrow is being drowned out by confusion. She is not acting like a girlfriend.

“Great. Let’s just get into it then,” Everett grumbles. As he stands before us, his eyes drilling into me, I fidget nervously. “Listen, Sky… I have this plan. A plan for us to be together.”

“We were already together, asshole,” I counter.

“What do you mean we were?!”

“Good god, can we just get to the point before you two spiral further?” Ashley interjects.

Evie sighs, dropping to his knees before me once more. “Alright. Obviously I can’t be open around my dad. It’ll turn out bad for me. So, I figured I could keep the peace and present Ashley as my fake girlfriend. That way me and you can run away once we graduate, and he won’t put his hands on me before then.”

I blink. I stare at him, and I blink like an idiot. What kind of Hallmark bullshit is this?!

“A… fake girlfriend?” I repeat, and Everett nods enthusiastically. “So you’re manipulating your parents to keep your funding and your peace until we graduate, and then you want me to what? Run away?”

“Well… yes.” His eyes flicker from me to Ashley, his expression shifting into something anxious and mildly scared. “I just thought… I don’t think it’ll be best for me to stay, and I don’t want to leave you, so…”

The three of us just… exist for a moment. I’m trying to comprehend what is being said and how I fit into it; how it’s meant to excuse his behavior.

Ashley is staring at me expectantly, as if I’m meant to piece it all together so easily.

I wasn’t aware that Everett wanted to get away from Sinclair completely. Does he want to leave Florida altogether? Am I meant to just pack up my life and run? What will my parents think?