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“You’re drunk,” she says.

“So?” I grab her, spinning her around. She laughs, her blonde dreads falling in front of her face. Mae’s been my bartender for a long time now. We fuck when either of us gets a notion to. I never sleep with the girls at the clubhouse, so I go to her.

We sway to the music and she takes the joint from me, hitting it before she grabs my face and blows smoke into my mouth. My heart drops. I used to do this to Bexley when we were teenagers, riding around in my car and listening to music. I grab the joint and move away from her, tasting tequila and lime from her lips on mine.

I grab the bottle from the bar and tip it up.

She walks over to me, and grabbing the bottle, she takes a sip herself. She looks at me as she licks her bottom lip and I place the joint in the ashtray. I grab her by her neck and kiss her. She runs her fingers over my head, and I pick her up, quickly removing her shirt. I grab her breast and kiss her skin. She’s braless and she moans when I suck her nipple.

Her hands go to my jeans and she undoes them. My mind wanders even now, in this moment, when I should be thinking about the woman I’m with, I’m only thinking about the woman I want to be with. I slow my movements, my head falling into her neck. I breathe out and her head falls back.

“He’s going to ask her, isn’t he?” she says quietly, raising her head.

I lift my head, my eyes telling her the answer without me having to say it out loud. She told me this would happen. We’ve argued about it. I didn’t want to believe it.

She nods, then clucks her tongue. “That’s why you’re drinking.” She moves and I let her down.

“I won’t let you make love to me and pretend like it’s her. I won’t let you treat me like that.”

I turn around to face her, aware that my jeans are still undone. “I’ve never made love to you, Mae, and you know that.”

She narrows her eyes at me, and I can tell I’ve hurt her. “You’re a real piece of shit.”

“I’ve never pretended to be anything different.” She picks up the bottle and throws it at me, nearly hitting me in the head. Glass shatters. Liquor spills and she grabs her shirt, leaving me alone. I scoff, grabbing the joint from the bar and another bottle. I hit the joint, take a big gulp of whiskey, and then I fall to the floor. I lie there until daybreak and Mae comes back to find me passed out. I help her clean up, apologizing for the way I treated her, and then I go to my room and sleep until nightfall.

Chapter Fourteen

Bexley

One month three days missing

I startle when something wakes me. Blinking my eyes open, I rub them and quickly sit up on a gasp.

“It’s just me,” Danny says.

“How?” I ask. “How did you get out?”

“The ibuprofen made the swelling in my wrists go down. I recut them and was able to slide them through with my blood as a lubricant.”

I flick my hair out of my face. “Jesus Christ, Danny,” I say, standing up. “Let me look at them.”

“They’re fine.”

“They’re fine?” I ask sarcastically.

“Yes.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s not like we can do anything about them anyway. No sense in worrying about me.”

“I’m not worrying about you; I’m worrying about me. I don’t want to be stuck here alone because you died from an infection before we could get out of here.”

“Oh, and here I was thinking you were concerned for my sake.”

“Why would I be?” I ask him. “You’re the reason I’m in here. You’re the reason…”

“You’ve said it before,” he says. “Go ahead and say it again. I know you’ve been itching to for the past however many days we’ve been in this fucking place.”