Page 67 of Stay With Me

“If you wanted to touch me from behind, all you had to do was ask,” I tease and enjoy the way his face turns red.

The place is packed, but he must’ve reserved a spot for us ahead of time because we’re shown right into an empty stall. We’re required to wear protective glasses, but he opts in for us wearing hard hats until he sees me throw one.

That earns him a glare.

There’s a bar at the other end, and I don’t know why it makes me laugh, but a place that is loaded with axes shouldn’t be anywhere near a place with alcohol.

“Alright, you ready to try?”

I exhale harshly. “I’m fairly confident I can throw it right in the center of his heart.”

There’s a wood target several feet away, and we had the option of a traditional bull’s-eye with point markers or a paper silhouette of a man. I asked for the paper because I like the visual, but also in my mind, it’s Travis’s body, and he’s going to finally get what he deserves.

Tripp chuckles, then hands me the axe. “Let’s see what ya got.”

I grip the handle with both hands, squint my eyes as I slowly aim it toward the chest, then stretch my arms behind my head.

“Do you want help with your aim?” Tripp asks.

“You better step back,” I warn him confidently.

I want to at least try on my own before I succumb to hishelp.

He chuckles, moving farther away. With as much force as possible, I whip the axe in front of me, and then we watch it fly. Even I’m surprised when the sound of it hitting the wood target reaches my ears.

“Ya nailed him!”

“Did I get his heart?” I ask eagerly.

“His neck.”

I bark out a laugh and give him a high five. “Even better.”

Tripp goes next and, to no one’s surprise, gets him right in the chest. “Bull’s-eye.”

“Imagine if I could get the crotch.”

His eyes widen as he adjusts himself. “Aim low.”

And so I do. Although there are only a few inches of wood beneath the photo where the cock would be, I focus as best as I can and throw it right at the groin.

“Goddamn!” Tripp cheers with an enthusiastic clap.

I cross my legs, wave out my arm, and bow. “Thank you, thank you.”

“I bet you’d love archery.”

I furrow my brows and grimace. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. My arm already feels like it’s gonna fall off.”

My dad didn’t teach me any outdoor activities, and a part of me wishes he had, but he was too busy trying to keep my mom alive and basically raise me as a single dad. My parents weren’t prepared for me at all. They weren’t exactly trying for kids either. My mom got pregnant with me in her forties, and by that time, she was already diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

She also suffers from depression, sleepwalking, and has had episodes of self-harming. I love my parents and never resented myupbringing, but as an only child, I spent most of my time at home, alone in my room.

Even though I’ve been best friends with Noah since we were kids and she lives on a ranch, I was never into riding horses and four-wheelers. I only got out of the house when Mrs. Hollis picked me up, and I slept over at the ranch on the weekends.

Noah and her brothers tried to get me to do outdoorsy stuff, but I couldn’t find it in me to try.

Part of me was too scared to get hurt so my dad didn’t have a second person to take care of on top of a full-time job.