Page 122 of You're so Bad

“Here,” Shelly says, hurrying up to us and pressing a bouquet to my chest. “For Shauna.”

“Thanks, Shelly,” I say. Bianca and Colter are still loudly bickering. A few other people are starting to filter off the field, but there’s a little line forming next to Josie the Great. I guess they think she can peer into that necklace of hers and see the future. I try giving her a dirty look on our way out of the endless field of flowers, but she’s not paying us any attention.

Shauna’s still pissed off by the time we get to her car.

“That bitch. I can’t believe—”

I laugh as we get inside, then I press the flowers to her chest. “For you, my queen.”

“Thank you,” she says, some of her bluster fading as she turns and sets them on the backseat. “I just—”

I kiss her, and she kisses me back, the flower I tucked behind her ear falling onto the dash between us. I return it to its rightful place. “Shauna, Bianca’s right about me. I had every intention of screwing up her wedding. We both did. Maybe you were right the other day too, and we shouldn’t go. They’re going to be miserable with us or without us.”

“Colter seems to think you’re his best buddy,” she comments.

I laugh and smooth her hair. “He’s delusional. But it might be the Macallan talking. Say, let’s stop by Mrs. Ruiz’s. I need to pick up some clothes.”

Some of her bad mood seems to lift. “You mean to say you’re not going to wear that suit for the rest of the day?”

I groan. “It may be stuck to my body. I think my balls are glued together.”

“Charming.” There’s a grin on her face, though, and I put it there. That makes me feel like a god after the scene we just exited.

Other people are heading into the parking lot now, talking in undertones, as Shauna backs out of the lot and heads for Mrs. Ruiz’s. A glow wraps me up and fills me, making the void I carry around seem smaller. I put my hand on her thigh, below the hem of that dress, and I keep it there for the rest of the drive.

It sounds weird, maybe, but I know something’s wrong the minute we get out of the car. The house hasn’t changed any, and there’s no red note stuck to the door. Still, there’s an air of trouble—call it a lifetime of experience cluing me in.

Before I get the door open, the neighbor, an old man who has a collection of seven busboy hats he wears in rotation, calls out to me.

“Mrs. Ruiz’s lodger,” he calls out, waving his cane in the air. He’s never bothered to learn my name, not that I know his. I walk over to his wheezing porch, making a mental note to help him replace a few of the boards. Last thing he needs is to break through it and get caught.

“What’s up, man?”

“This neighborhood’s going to hell.”

“More robberies?” I ask, running a hand over my jaw.

“Not for a few days.” His gaze shoots toward Shauna before landing back on me. “You didn’t hear it from me, but the police are looking for you. They seem to mean business.” He gives me a significant look—ayou better get the fuck out of this city and maybe even this statelook. I barely register it, though, because suddenly that void inside of me is pulsing and expanding outward again.

My first thought isholy shit, maybe Josie’s actually psychic.

Then my mind starts working overtime. I could do what he’s suggesting. I could run. I could send Shauna home with some excuse and then go pack a bag at Mrs. Ruiz’s house. Take an uber to the bus station and buy a ticket that’ll take me out of state.

I could disappear again.

A couple of months ago, I wouldn’t have even paused to consider it. But here’s the thing—my old man finds me wherever I go. Even now, after confronting Joel, the dreams still come. Not every night, but almost. Running isn’t going to make him go away, but it will take me away from Shauna and the kid. Constance. Bean. Burke. Danny. Drew, if he ever comes back. Shane, if he ever feels like talking to me.

The only family I’ve ever had.

I run a hand across my jaw and glance at Shauna, standing next to the steps of the little purple house. She looks like everything I’ve ever wanted but could never have. I’m in love with her, but I destroy the things I love.

Did Joel figure out who I am, somehow? Is he going to have me booked for assault by tree? Kidnapping of a minor?

Dammit. We came so close. Another couple of days, and Reese will be eighteen.

The geezer nods to my threads. “Why you wearing a suit like that, son? You get noticed when you wear a thing like that.”

He’s not wrong, but I’ve stopped caring about going through life below other people’s notice. I’ve started to feel like a person again. But here’s that other shoe I’ve been waiting for, dropping on my head.

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