Page 200 of Irreversible

Yet, I can’t help but low-key feel like shit as I pull ahead of Jasper, as if I’m speeding away from a fire I helped start, only to realize the smoke’s still clinging to me.

He comes up beside me as a fifty-degree wind smacks us in the face. “Things with Allison are a bit…strained at the moment.”

My shoesthunkagainst the pavement as my grip tightens on my handbag. “Strained?”

“Mmhmm.” He rubs two fingers across his chin. “I’d prefer to stay focused tonight. I have some news that might cheer you up.”

“I’m cheery.” My tone drips with the opposite of cheer. “Never been better.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“That’s kind of unavoidable, Jasper. Everything about this is uncomfortable.” My tone bleeds honesty as we trudge through the parking lot and beeline toward Jasper’s silver Porsche coupe.

Partial honesty, anyway.

I refrain from telling him that some of the discomfort lies in the fact that I spent the greater part of last night featured in a multitude of different positions—sweating, moaning, sore, and on the receiving end of multiple orgasms.

As we approach the vehicle, a hint of bleach dances underneath my nose. My instincts heighten as an unsettling feeling edges its way through me. I glance around the lot.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find. The smell is associated with Roger, who met a grisly, horrific death right in front of my eyes. But logic is often eclipsed by memories I wish I could erase. The bleach brings it all rushing back—the stark, metallic tang in the air, the cold dread, the terror twisting in my gut as I watched Roger fall, his insides splashing across my face like insidious rain.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. The parking lot is empty, and there are no signs of anyone lurking.

Isaac promised me I was safe.

I trust him.

“Are you okay?” Jasper holds the passenger door open for me, his eyes narrowing through nightfall.

“Yep. I’m good.” I slide into the vehicle and buckle my seatbelt as Jasper closes the door and enters the driver’s side.

It’s a quiet twenty-minute drive to the restaurant.

“Would you like some music?” Jasper asks as we idle in traffic.

I cross my arms and look out the window. I always needed music in the car; he hasn’t forgotten that. Podcasts and audiobooks were my go-to for cleaning and exercising, but music was reserved for sliding in behind the wheel. There was something about the rhythmic bass that made stop lights and angry drivers fade into background noise. “No, thanks,” I say, realizing I haven’t voluntarily listened to music since I’ve been back.

It feels like yet another missing piece of the old Everly.

Jasper’s car is pristine, as always. Not a single speck of dust on the dashboard. It smells like tea-tree oil and fresh pine, prompting long-lost memories to coast across my mind: joyrides to galas and photography shoots, road trips to Nevada, dinner dates, and popcorn fights at the drive-in theater.

Another life.

A past life.

The valet parks the car, and we stroll into the dimly lit restaurant before being led to a two-person booth. Candlelight and soft music have me feeling itchy and underdressed, completely out of place.

When I settle into my seat, I readjust the collar of my hoodie and tuck my hair behind my ears. “So.” I have no idea what tosay, or why he wants to see me. Cursory conversation feels too shallow, given our circumstances, and anything with sentiment or depth feels like too much. “How’s your mother doing?” I latch on to a common thread that won’t strangle me.

“She’s fine. Has an office job in Santa Monica. She’s allowed to bring her maltese.” Jasper folds a napkin in his lap, then dances his fingertips on the tabletop as he makes a humming sound. “Everly, I wanted to discuss something with you. It’s about your career.”

My throat dries.

The gentleman’s club?

It’s not that I’m ashamed or embarrassed, I’m just in no mood for an interrogation. “My job is going well at the moment.”

His eyes flash. “Not the stripping.” When he catches the way I flinch, he exhales through his nose. “Allison told me. Your mother brought it up. Everyone is worried about you.”

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