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24
River
We leavethe smoldering wreckage behind, going back to the cars so we can drive away. We collect our shit from the cabin and ditch the car we bought to start driving back to Detroit.
It’s late by this time, but we don’t want to waste any more time before getting back. No one brings it up, but there’s an unspoken agreement that we’ll just head back now.
“Make sure you’ve got everything,” Ash says as we load up the car. “We’re not coming back.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Priest says dryly, and we all laugh at the little joke. They’re rare from Priest, but becoming a more frequent thing, which I like.
As we pile in and start driving away from the cabin, I think about what just happened. The chase, the fire, the way Knox took out the driver before he could get away. It was all so fucking satisfying, like checking another thing off the list.
When I had my list of six names, I was focused on avenging Hannah. I’m still focused on that now, but I’m aware of the broader implications of what I’m doing too. This isn’t just about picking off some assholes who hurt me. I’m tearing down Julian’s whole operation, which will help everyone who’s ever suffered at his hands. Killing those drug dealers the other day felt good too.
The end game is Julian, but it’s starting to feel pretty good to fight against the rottenness in Detroit too.
I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling a little bit more of the pain that’s been lodged in my heart slip away.
Priest reaches over and puts an arm around me, tucking me against his side.
“You should get some rest,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that I can feel as well as hear. “It’s late, and it’s a long drive.”
I hum an affirmative and settle in against him, letting my eyes close. It usually takes me longer to get comfortable or feel relaxed enough to sleep, but right now I feel safe in a way I haven’t in a long, long time.
* * *
We makegood time heading back to the city, traveling even faster than we did on the way to the mountains. That means fewer stops, which makes us all a little restless and cramped, but it’s worth it when we finally pull into the driveway of the house. It’s started to feel like home in a way I never expected, and I’m so grateful to be back.
Once the car is stopped, I get out and groan as my knees and legs unbend for the first time in hours. I stretch them out and then stretch my sides, bending this way and that to shake the cramps from them.
Ash wolf whistles, giving me a long once over, and I roll my eyes at him.
The house is quiet and familiar, and after so long in the car, it feels damn good to just step inside.
“I need a shower,” I tell them, stretching my arms over my head. “I feel like I’ve got road trip grime all over me.”
“And yet, you’re still the hottest thing in the room,” Ash says, grinning. “I guess we should unpack the gear and shit. That’s the worst part of coming back from a trip.”
“Better to do it now than let it sit in the bags until we have to take another trip,” Priest points out.
Ash makes a face at him. “Is it, though? Because if it’s already in the bags, then we don’t have to repack it.”
Priest rolls his eyes and hauls Ash off to start unloading the car.
“I’ll go get the dog,” Gage replies. “Since I’m sure no one wants to get back in the car to go pick him up.”
“You’re the best,” I call out in a sing song voice as I head for the stairs because he’s absolutely right. The thought of getting back in the car after just getting out of it is terrible. I hear Gage huff a laugh under his breath and then make my way to my room.
I strip off my clothes with a grateful sigh, rolling my shoulders and stretching out my arms and legs. The stiffness from being cooped up in the car is starting to fade, but it’ll be even better when I get in the shower and the hot water can work its magic on my muscles.
My nail polish from the trip is chipped and not in the best shape, so I get a new color from the drawer, choosing a bright orange just because it feels right in the moment. I see the razor that I use to cut myself in the same drawer, and I stare at it for a long moment.
Actually, I don’t have the impulse to use it right now, and that’s a nice feeling. I know it’s not like the urge will go away, but in this moment at least, I don’t want it. I don’t need it. And it occurs to me that maybe the next time I get that itching feeling under my skin that makes me want to cut, I can get Knox to help me again.
I’m not sure a psychologist would say that wanting him to mark me up is any better than wanting to mark myself up, but I think I’m pretty far beyond the help of any psychologist now anyway.
When I finally get into the shower, the hot water is definitely a revelation. I sigh with pleasure as it beats down on me, working out the kinks from sitting in the same spot for so long and sleeping in uncomfortable positions. I wash up quickly and then change my nail polish with smooth, practiced strokes, smoking a cigarette while I let the polish dry. I get dressed in clean clothes and then head downstairs to see if the guys are done with their shit yet.
