Page 15 of Loco

After dinner, we decided to relax in front of the fire, and tonight my pets actually let me sit on the couch instead of trying to get comfortable in the recliner. I don’t know what it was about that chair, but it felt like it was swallowing me and made me feel claustrophobic, so I avoided sitting in it as much as possible.

The exhaustion from the day before—the adrenaline, the relentless storm, the work outside because of the snow and ice, and the effort spent beginning the cleanup at Sayla’s house so I could assess the damage properly—finally caught up with us. Before long, we were both yawning mid-conversation, barely paying attention to the movie playing on the TV as fatigue settled in.

Neither of us wanted to go to bed, though, and late-night confessions slipped out. It was the kind of exhaustion that made people too honest for their own good. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, the fire crackling, Sayla sighed. “I should’ve gotten that inspection.”

I glanced at her. “Yeah. But then you wouldn’t be here, and let’s be real, where else would you find this level of entertainment?” I gestured at the room around us, including Lynyrd, currently gnawing on his tail, and Skynyrd, who was asleep while still sitting up.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

The lull in conversation stretched between us, but instead of the usual comfortable silence, there was something weightier about it—like the kind of quiet that begged to be filled with something real. I figured if we were going down the road of oversharing, I might as well start with something light.

“When I was sixteen, my best friend, Kemble, and I decided we were cool enough to try weed.”

Sayla’s interest piqued instantly. She turned toward me, one eyebrow arching. “Oh, this should be good.”

“Oh, it was,” I assured her. “We stole a joint from his older brother, snuck out to the woods behind his house, and lit up. The problem was, we had no idea how much to actually smoke.”

She smirked. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” I shook my head at the memory. “Kemble took two hits and said he didn’t feel anything. So naturally, we both decided the only logical thing to do was to finish the whole thing.”

Sayla clapped a hand over her mouth, already laughing. “Please tell me you passed out in the woods.”

“Worse. We got paranoid and thought a deer was following us. So, we ran back to his house, locked all the doors, and spent the next three hours trying to convince his very unimpressed mother that we had, in fact, seen ‘a suspicious deer’ casing the neighborhood.”

Sayla let out an unfiltered, genuine laugh that made her nose scrunch up. “A suspicious deer? That’s next-level paranoia.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I didn’t try it again after that.”

She grinned, shaking her head, then fell quiet for a moment, something unreadable flickering across her face before she spoke again. “I have one,” she said, but her tone was different now—less amused, more cautious. “I’ve never told anyone this before.”

I stayed quiet, letting her take her time.

“It’s not like your story, so stop me if you don’t want to hear it.” I gave her a look that let her know there was no way in hell I’d stop her. I wanted to know everything I could about her. “When I was eighteen, I had a boyfriend my parents never knew about. He was… not the type of guy they’d approve of. Always getting into trouble, had a record, the whole ‘bad boy’ package.” She let out a small, dry laugh. “I thought I could fix him.”

My chest tightened, but I didn’t interrupt.

“I got pregnant.” The words were quiet but clear. “It was an ectopic pregnancy, and I had to have surgery to remove one of my fallopian tubes.” She swallowed. “I told my parents it was my appendix, and to this day, that’s what they think happened.”

I sat up, my exhaustion forgotten, my stomach twisting. “Sayla…”

She didn’t look at me, staring at the fire instead. “It was a long time ago. I got through it. But sometimes I think about how easy it was to lie to them, how they never questioned it. Then, I think about how much I want them to know the truth.”

I reached over, resting a hand on her knee and squeezing it. “I’m sorry you went through that alone.”

She exhaled slowly, finally turning to face me. “Me too.” After a moment, she added, “The second they wheeled me into surgery, he left.” Her voice was calm, but there was an edge of something raw underneath. “I called him when I woke up, over and over. He never answered.”

I clenched my jaw. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

She let out a humorless chuckle. “Nope. Guess ‘shit was too real’ for him. His words, not mine.”

I saw red. “What a fucking asshole.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she agreed easily, lifting her coffee cup in a mock toast. “A massive, grade-A pussy.”

I barked out a laugh, even as my hands curled into fists. “Where does he live now?”

She gave me a pointed look. “Somewhere else.”

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