Page 92 of His Last Shot
Johnny
I have to let Rachel go.
For my family’s protection. And for hers.
My fingers dug into her back, and I hold her so tight, terrified of crushing her.
Suddenly, she lifts her head as her eyes widen with an idea. “We can see each other in secret! I mean, that’s an option, right?”
My heart bottoms out with the false hope she’s grabbing at.
“No one has to know. We could meet outside of town.”
She pulls away and paces frantically, her arms flailing, a torrent of words pouring from her mouth.
I watch.
Stare.
“I’ll get my own place.” She nods in agreement with her own idea as she chews on her finger. “Yep, that could work. Micah will cover for us, and I’m sure Scott and Laura will, too. It could be like our secret hideaway where it will just be us.”
She runs over to me. I stand motionless.
“Or better yet … we could leave.”
Every muscle in my body is tense, rigid, and screaming in protest. My girl, desperate and reaching for any solution, is grasping at straws. Trying to come up with how we can make this work. With a slow, deliberate step, she returns, her hands settling on my chest, her face filled with desperate hope. “Let’s just get out of here. Far away from all of this.” A single tear falls over her lashes and lands on her flushed cheek, her eyes searching, hoping. “Say we can make this work. Don’t leave me,” she strains.
My own tears spill over, fast and hard. I’ve never cried this much in my whole life. Not even when my dad died.
With a deep inhale, I pull my hands from my sides and take hold of her wrists, the warmth of her skin seeping through mine. “Rachel, I don’t want to,” I whisper.
“Then don’t!” she shouts as she jerks away from me. “We can do this, Johnny—”
“Rachel please…” I plead.
“He doesn’t get to win! He can’t do this.” She continues to step backward, her eyes wild as she chokes out her words through sobs. “We can leave! Start over! This can’t be the end. It can’t—”
“Rachel, STOP!” Her eyes widen in shock at my sharp outburst, a gasp eluding her lips as she flinches away. She’s never heard me raise my voice before. But I need to get her attention.
Coughing nervously and trying to regain my composure, I place my hands on my hips. “You saw the pictures. Nothing escapes his notice.” I lift my shirt. “You saw my body.” I point to my abdomen. “This was a warning, Rachel. We know what he is capable of. He told me that I was allowed to come and say goodbye to you tonight. Do you honestly think he won’t be watching our every move after tonight to make sure we aren’t together? I mean, forget about you, me, Scott,and Laura. We are adults and have lived our lives. Fulfilling lives. But Mallory and Jake? What if, to prove his point, he takes his vengeance out on them?”
The question hangs in the air, its weight forcing me to avoid her stare. “Are you truly willing to take that risk? Because I’m not.”
Minutes tick by, each second sharpening the details of our new reality becoming clear. With a twist of my body, I ask, my voice a little unsure. “Are you?” The truth lives in that question. The answer circles us. I watch as Rachel stands, sobs. She squeezes her eyes shut … and she shakes her head.
My body tenses, a searing heat blooming in my chest as if I’m holding a live grenade. And Dexter pulled the pin.
“AAAAHHH!” The scream is primal, full of sadness, fear, and anger. Storming over to the bar stools, I pick one up and chuck it, straining my already beaten body. Pain zips straight to my core. Rachel’s hands shoot to her mouth as she yelps out. Leather and metal soar through the air, landing on the floor with a thud, then skids to a stop next to one of the pool tables.
We stand on either side of the dance floor, Rachel’s sobs and my heavy breathing the only sound in this bar.
I scrub a hand down my face and motion for her to come to me. She runs over, and I grab her by the back of the head, pulling her to me. We collide in a hug, holding, squeezing, crying. At this moment—our last—she is warm, real, and mine. I focus on her. The way her hair is like silk in my fingers. Her breath seeping into my soul as she cries. How her body molds to mine, perfectly, snapping into place like a puzzle piece.
We always fit.
I won’t let my mind go beyond the right now, to what I hold dear. Contemplating a future without her is like a betrayal to my heart and soul. It stings, bites, and chaffs in places I didn’t even know it could.
We fuse our foreheads together, holding still. “Rachel—”
