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“Come on,” I hear Sylvia’s voice as I feel her grab my wrists to pull my hands away from my mouth. Keeping my eyes closed, I let her lead me out of the room. She hugs me and shushes me, which makes me realize I’m crying. All I can see in my head is the last fight Roger was in, mere minutes before he died. He was brutal in a way that scared me because I’d never seen him like that, but it was my fault he was as angry as he was. “You’re okay, Lizzy. You’re okay. It’s okay. Marc is fine, too. Breathe in and out slowly. You’re starting to hyperventilate.”
I focus on my breathing to calm down, but the memories have me rattled. “I don’t know if I can go back in there,” I whisper.
“That’s okay, too. Do you want me to stay with you?”
I shake my head and force her to go back inside to watch the game. I walk about three feet from the door and sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall. My heart pounds in my chest. The panic is still circulating in my system. I fold my arms over my knees and wait, hoping that maybe I’ll be able to return to watch the game while somehow knowing that I’m not walking back into that room tonight.
God, it’s like I’m back to square one.
“YOU MIGHT HAVE to hold Meredith back. Between the black eye and busted lip, she won’t be able to resist me because I’ll look like a bad boy and women love bad boys. That in combination with me being her favorite Rebel, and she won’t be able to control herself.”
Rams shoves me, making my shoulder brush against the wall as we walk toward the box where Meredith awaits. “Shut the hell up, Marco. Once we’re married, I’m demanding you stop this shit.”
“Oh, come on. You’d miss it. Meredith would miss it and—” I stop as I see Elizabeth standing by the railing across from the box with her arms wrapped around herself. Without a second thought, I leave Rams behind to go to her. She said she wasn’t coming. Her head turns and then I see red rims around her eyes.
“Marco,” she whispers.
“Polo,” I whisper back, wrapping my arms around her. “What happened?”
She shakes her head. “How was the game?”
“Lost. We’re going to the bar; want to come with us?”
“Yes.” Her hand slowly rises and carefully touches my lip and around my eye. That’s when it clicks for me. Or, at least, I assume she’s standing out here because of the fight I was in tonight. Scotty said Roger was getting into it with everyone during his last game.
“I’m okay.”
“I know.”
“Are you?”
“Trying to be.” Her hand falls as Noah and Meredith come from the box.
“Are you guys coming?” Meredith asks.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth answers. “We’re coming.”
I want to ask her if she’s sure, but that sounds like a bad idea. She’s already answered, so she must be sure. There’s an awkward silence as we walk out to the parking lot and I realize it’s because I’m quiet. This is usually the part where I make a joke. Tonight, I’d ask how hard it is for her to resist me, but I haven’t because Elizabeth seems off and flirting with Meredith to annoy Noah isn’t going to happen.
I follow Elizabeth to the bar. I take it as a bad sign that she orders two shots to start with. Tonight must’ve fucked with her more than she’s showing. Scott and Sylvia are next to arrive and Scott frowns when he sees the two empty shot glasses and Elizabeth glancing around for the waitress to order more alcohol. When she doesn’t see one, she gets up and walks over to the bar.
“What happened with Lizzy?” Scott asks me.
“She watched some of the game like the rest of us and was doing great,” Sylvia answers. “But she had a panic attack that hit her hard when she saw the fight.”
Which means I was right. My eyes search the bar for Elizabeth. She’s sipping on a margarita and talking to some guy. What the hell? She doesn’t look like she’s dying to get away; she’s actually talking animately with him. Does she know him? She sets the drink on the bar and hugs the guy.
“Who is that with Elizabeth, Scotty?” I interrupt his current conversation with Sylvia.
He turns to look, but they are still hugging. “Can’t tell.”
“That kind of looks like Tucker, doesn’t it?” Sylvia asks.
“Oh shit,” Scotty mutters as they pull apart. “That’s him all right.”
That makes me stand. “Who is Tucker?”
“Roger’s best friend. We haven’t seen or heard from him since he died. I don’t think Lizzy has either.”
