Page 33 of The Second Deal

“Suresmelled like you wouldn’t, anyway,”Irespond asIpivot for the front door.

Zaksays from right behind me, “Thanksfor takin’ me home, babe.”

“Surething, hon.”

Iwince when it feels like my heart plummets further into the abyss, wondering what the fuck is wrong with us both.

Zakfollows me outside to my car.Hewatches carefully, likeI’ma wisp of smoke that will disappear in the slightest breeze at any second.

Partof me wants to reach out, to grab his tattooed hand, tell himI’mright here, andI’mnot going anywhere.Anotherpart of me wants to drop down onto the crispy grass that will pierce the skin of my knees like needles to beg for his forgiveness, to tell him how sorryIam, how muchI’veregretted everythingI’vedone.Andthe rest of me wants to get into my car, start driving, and never turn back becauseIknow goddamn well no amount of apologizing and groveling will undo all the damageI’vedone, soImight as well quit whileI’mahead beforeIget my hopes up way too high.

Zak’seyes harden and his jaw clenches, quelling the boil back down to a simmer and making me swallow the words beforeIcan retch it all up.

“Whydidn’t you postRob’sbail?” he questions.

Ishrug. “Thoughthe could use a timeout.”Beforehe has a chance to ask anything else aboutAtlanta,Iquickly ask, “Doyou know what’s going on at the bridge?

Zakshakes his head and crosses his arms. “No.”

“Iran intoGigilast night and she said shit’s pickin’ up again around the bridge with offerings and whatever.AndBrandyandIfound the black deer we saw last night gutted on the approach earlier.Like, sacrificed in a ritual.”

Thedeer’s bloody guts, the owl and its beak turned crimson stain my memory.

“Iswear,Idon’t know anything about that.I—Iremember bailing withShannon.Ihad him drop me off at the bar on the way.”Hisexpression turns sheepish.Probablybecause the bar isn’t on the way back to his place orShannon’s. “And, yeah,Idrank enough to make me forget thatIsaw you last night.”Hiseyes bore into mine, probing deeply. “Iwasn’t sure if you’d ever come back.Ithought for sure you’d getRobbiefrom jail, but you never showed up.”

Myface falls. “You… you wanted to see me?”

“You’rethe girlIproposed to on stage atNewYear’sBallafter the best showI’veever played in my life,” he starts with a straight face, matter-of-factly. “Thesame girl that embarrassed me in front of everyone over somethingIknew—Iknew—was a sure thing.Whofuckin’ cheated on me with my brother and wouldn’t own up to her mistake.Just—” he throws his hands up, “—ducked outta town without any warning and blocked me on socials and wouldn’t text or call either of us back.”

Grimacing, my eyes close.Ilet the heat from my hands burn my arms in a desperate attempt to hold it all together.

“Iwanted you to see how well we were doing without you.HowwellIwas doing without you.”

Tearsslip on the sharpness ofZak’swords that puncture right in my chest.Witheach pump, my heart hemorrhages straight into my lungs.

“I’mglad you never came because then you would’ve seen how much of a fucking lie that was.”

Igasp sharply, eyes cracking opening to find him stalking away towards the house and slamming the door shut.

Chapter13

Truth

–Seether

MaybeZakhadthe right idea last night getting drunk off his ass to forget seeing me.

Unfortunatelyfor me, the bartender across the street from where their gig is in a couple of hours has a weak pour and, with the hundred degree temperature seeping into the bar and melting the ice in my margarita, allI’mdoing is hydrating instead of drowning my guilt.

Ijust want something to push me all the way into oblivion, to drop me off about two months ago when everything glittered gold with a dream roster of clients onDirtyPeach’sschedule, beforeTimelesscame toAtlanta.

Sighingheavily,Ilet my head roll back and relish the gentle breeze from anACvent above blowing over my face.Ifeel likeIhaven’t slept in a couple of months becauseIhaven’t.

Thefirst three albums played in my head over and over untilIwas reliving studio time with every blink.Stagelights and headbanging crowds flashed behind closed eyelids untilIgave up trying to sleep and watched oldTimelessshows and music videos, helplessly chasing the high of the stage through a screen.

Iwould pick up a guitar in the studio when no one was looking.Icould never play, though—Iwasn’t inTimeless, and my fingers refused to cooperate and play anything at all.

Idid my best to ignore theirAtlantashow, butShannonandRobbieboth wouldn’t let me forget about it, texting, calling and asking ifI’dbe there.Hell, evenTytalked about going, butIthink that was mostly so he could show off the factIwas with him and not them.

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