Page 12 of If He Hadn't Cheated
Present
The night begins like all the others. Too loud. Too crowded. Too much.The club lights pulse in every color. The bass thunders through my chest, shaking the floor until I can no longer tell if my heart is keeping up or trying to escape. I tell myself I am just here to have fun. One drink. Maybe two. Nothing dangerous. Nothing new.
But the moment the glass touches my lips, the lie falls apart.
The heat, the bodies, the smell of smoke and perfume wrap around me until I forget what I came here to forget. I close my eyes and let it happen. I let the rhythm take over, let someone’s hands find my waist, let the music erase the part of me that still remembers how to hurt.
The guy with blonde hair and a neck tattoo says something over the music, I think his name is Noah or something.
By midnight, my mind feels soft and blurred. The floor sways under my heels. My laughter sounds too loud, too desperate.
A girl I know from the bar leans close. “You good?” she asks, her eyes glassy.
I nod. “Never better.”
She smiles like she believes me, but I can tell she doesn’t. No one ever does.
The next drink burns going down. The next line hits faster than I expect. I feel it crawl through my veins, cold and then hot. The lights sharpen, the air thins, the music swallows everything.
I tell myself I will stop after this one. I never do. The pain tries to claw its way up, and I drown it with another swallow, another touch, another kiss that means nothing.
It is easier that way.
Around two in the morning, I stumble outside. The air hits like ice, shocking and clean. My heels scrape the concrete as I lean against the wall, the brick cold through my jacket. The neon lights flicker overhead, painting the street in red and blue. The world tilts and spins. I press a hand to my forehead, breathing through the nausea.
My fingers find my phone in my purse. The screen glows too bright, cracked near the corner. I scroll through the contacts without thinking. My vision doubles. I try to text someone, anyone, but my fingers slip.
The ringing fills my ear before I can stop it.
“Hello?”
The voice is deep, calm, familiar.
I blink. “Knox?”
Silence. Then his voice again, lower this time. “Lana?”
I open my mouth, but the world tilts. The sound of traffic fades. My knees buckle, and the phone slips from my hand.
Everything goes black.
When I wake, I’m surrounded by fluorescent light. White. Sterile. Unforgiving. The beeping beside me is steady and slow, a sound that does not belong in my life.
The air smells like antiseptic and something sharp. My throat burns when I try to swallow.
A nurse appears beside the bed. “You’re awake,” she says softly. “You’re lucky. Someone found you outside a club downtown. You were dehydrated and unconscious.”
I stare at her, my voice rasping. “Someone?”
She glances toward the doorway. “He’s been here since they brought you in. He wouldn’t leave.”
I turn my head.
Knox Cain stands near the door, hands in the pockets of his black coat, watching me. His face is unreadable, eyes dark and steady.
The nurse checks the monitor, then leaves. The silence between us thickens.
Knox takes a step closer. His voice is calm. “You called me.”
