Page 84 of Mr. Brightside

My heart rips itself from my chest, plummets to the ground, and hits with a thud.

Ian McDowell.

IanFuckingMcDowell?

The man who roofied me—the man who tried to assault me when I was sixteen—is currently parking his no-good predatory ass inmybar? I scramble to my feet on instinct, desperate to not be in a compromising or submissive position. I feel a sharp pain along the crown of my head before I realize I’m pulling on my own hair.

My body feels weightless. Like I’m empty. Like I’m nothing. All I want to do is evaporate into a mist and be anywhere but here. I try to inhale and feel my chest burn in objection. I’m gonna fucking hyperventilate if I don’t get it together. Fast.

Either Dem doesn’t notice that I’m short-circuiting or he knows better than to ask. “He says he just moved back to town. He’s been named director of admissions at Arch.”

Without thought, I let out an audible groan. I didn’t even realize I did it until I heard it. I swear to God I have no control of any of my faculties right now. It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching myself spiral from behind the bar. I’m sure I look manic. I can’t even look at Dempsey for fear that he’ll see me: that he’ll connect the dots, that he’llknow.

I have to get out of here.

I snort out a chortle at the absurdity of running away from my own bar—from my own life—because of Ian McDowell. But even though the logical part of my brain knows that my reaction is absolutely asinine, I can’t control it.

I don’t have words. I don’t have thoughts. I just have shame.

And right now, that shame feels like nitrous-oxidized fuel burning through my veins.

Chapter 36

Jake

Fightorflightisreal, and I was fueled up and ready for takeoff.

I don’t remember leaving. I can’t believe I just ran out of my own bar and abandoned my staff without a word.

I don’t remember making the decision to come here, of all places.

What the fuck am I doing?

The pool is covered, and most of the outdoor furniture is put away. I must have dragged a lounge chair from somewhere, though, because I’m flat on my back, staring up at the cloudy Hampton night sky.

I’m appalled that I didn’t recognize him the second he stepped into my bar. For all intents and purposes, he looks the same. Older, with thinner hair and more of a smarmy vibe. But the Ian McDowell who walked into The Oak tonight is the same man who tried to take advantage of an overly enthusiastic teenager ten years ago.

I scoff at the notion:tried. What happened that night changed the trajectory of my life. It corrupted my sense of self. It demolished my already-shitty relationship with my dad. It altered my entire future.

All because of what he tried to do.All because of what I went back for.

I’m such a fucking coward.

I turn my head from side to side on the lounger, feeling the strips of plastic shift under the weight of my skull.

It’s stupid that I came here, of all places. I never even told Rhett what really happened that night.

He knows a lot of it. My best friend came to my rescue. I called him the second I realized something was off, then I ran like hell until my body gave up in the school parking lot out near the salt shed. Rhett and I were so attuned to each other back then that somehow he found me.

It was his idea to let me drive. He thought being behind the wheel and having some sense of control would calm me. He didn’t realize how far gone I was. Hell, neither did I.

That wasn’t the only plan he concocted that night. He also forced me out of the driver’s seat so I wouldn’t get in trouble after I crashed the car.

Sitting in his Audi with the airbags deployed while Rhett’s arm hung limp at his side is a core memory. Not because it was so gruesome or scarring, which it was. But because it dragged on for literal hours.

He refused to call for help until he was sure the Rohypnol had worked through my system, giving me the autonomy to decide who I told about what happened that night.

He was the one who sustained the injuries. Yet he sat in the driver’s seat cracking jokes and sweating through the pain, offering me sips of water and words of reassurance as I came in and out of consciousness.