Page 61 of Limbo

“Oh shit,” he says. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head, and it finally happens then. Not a single tear like the night of my blackout or the silent stream from after Jordan left for the last time. A whimper breaks out of me, and then all the pain pours out at once through real, soul-breaking tears. Uncontrollable, ugly sobs slash through me and seem like they’ll never stop. But I don’t want them to until every last bit of feeling is out of me. I want to be free of it all. Numb, so none of it can hurt me anymore.

Everything stops eventually.

I lie on top of the bar, staring at the fan as it completes each slow rotation. The shadow spins on the vaulted ceiling above me. Trey monitors every breath, waiting for me to fall apart again. I won’t. My head pounds, and my eyes burn, but the emotions have subsided. Plunged back below the surface. For a while at least.

An assortment of fried snack foods appears next to my head. When Pete reaches to set the basket on the bar, I notice a mark on his forearm. I sit up and grab his hand and push his sleeve farther up.

“We match?” I hold out my arm and compare the wounds. Fresh pink skin covers an area of the same size.

“Tony has one, too,” Trey says, rolling up his sleeve and adding his burned arm to the mix. “I’m jealous if you were able to forget.”

“Be jealous then, because I don’t remember.”

“Tony decided we needed to see who was the toughest out of the three of us,” Pete says. “We heated up metal clothes hangers with a lighter and whoever held it against their arm the longest won.” He chuckles. “You said we were sexist for not including you and Shayna. Turned out, you were right and beat us all.”

An odd relief floods over me as the last piece of the puzzle falls into place with all injuries accounted for. “God, we’re idiots.” I smile for a moment before it fades. “Some of us more than others.”

Trey shakes his head. “From what I could tell, Jordan’s a pretty understanding guy. I mean, he should have beaten my ass for bringing you back to school like I did. I’m sure, if you explained—”

“No.” I douse a fry in ketchup. “Enough people already deal with my baggage. He’s better off.”

Pete steals the fry from my hand. “So, you’re back on the market?”

Trey launches a fried cheese ball at him. “Dude.”

“What? He might be better off, but I’ve dealt with your family’s drama most of my life. Plus, dating Cal provides perks that being friends with your ass just can’t match.” He makes a kissy face toward Trey and winks at me.

“Dream on.” I flick beer from my glass at him.

The soda sprayer appears from behind the bar, Pete ready to squeeze the trigger. “Think about your next move very carefully, Henders.”

“Don’t make me shoot, Pete.” Trey pops off the lid of the ketchup bottle and aims. “They trained us for these types of situations at the academy.”

Pete’s grin widens as his other hand rises with another sprayer. “If I’m going down, I’m taking the whole damn bar down with me.”

They stay in a standoff until Trey ever so slightly arches his eyebrow at me. I smile at him before I dive off the bar, tackling Pete to the floor.

The meltdown in front of Trey and Pete proved therapeutic, and by the time I finish my last midterm on Thursday, I am looking forward to spring break. I’ll spend the weekend at Lauren’s—eye roll—but campus will be a ghost town when I return. An entire week to myself sounds like what I need to refocus.

Before I leave for Lauren’s tomorrow, I agree to go with Felicia to an always-eventful party at the state college an hour and a half away. Her cousin and his friends are throwing some big kickoff at their house. I would have passed on the invite, but Becca has already left for Connecticut, Jess bailed to spend time with Johnny, and Felicia going alone worries me. State parties shoot to the rowdy end of the spectrum sooner rather than later. Sure, the cops usually bust them within a few hours, but a lot can go wrong in that amount of time.

Felicia parks about a block away and glances around as we get out. “Think we can sprint this far when the cops show up?”

“We might want to stretch now, just in case.”

Both of us reach for our phones at the same time.

“Mine’s Jess,” she says. “She’s coming after all and bringing Johnny. They’re forty minutes out.”

Their relationship remains an unsolvable mystery. She won’t let him in her room, and neither seems keen on being seen together on campus.

“Who’s yours from?” she asks.

I tip the phone, and we read the message from Benji.

My dearest Calico, see you soon. P.S. No, he’s not coming.

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