my chest and belly, already numbing the pain, already giving me something else to focus on.
With every drink, I forced myself to think of other things that weren’t him. Campfires, cigars, the smoked cheese Harlow and I had gorged ourselves on during our last family trip to Paris.
I didn’t know how long I’d sat in my car, drinking and trying not to think about Hendrix, but nearly half the bottle was gone when I decided I did indeed need to go to Davey’s. I couldn’t go home, and I didn’t want to sit in the car alone, crying and drinking. It was the one place that never failed to let me get lost, let me forget everything.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I made myself breathe, focus. I couldn’t go smashing into parked cars. Not when I’d finally made it. Even though I was a fucking mess, that little part of my logical brain had managed to remind me to take the back streets instead of the freeway, to drive slowly. I was irrationally annoyed at how long it had taken to get here. Self-preservation was so weird . . .
I parked the car in the back of the lot where there was more room, where I was able to park across two spots at a weird angle and hit the divider without anyone noticing. Then I grabbed the bottle from the passenger seat, swung the door wide open, and hauled myself out. My vision blurred, and I took a moment to steady myself before walking toward the front entrance, leaving my car open, my purse just sitting there, the keys still in the ignition. Nothing mattered anymore.
I took another swig as my heels crunched in the gravel, my footing uneven. I’d changed into a low-cut gray top and applied dark eyeliner before I decided it actually didn’t matter what I wore. My school skirt and socks had stayed on, and I’d added a pair of heeled Mary Janes to complete the weird ensemble. I was pretty sure I looked like some slutty porn version of a school girl with my cleavage hanging out and the heels on, but I didn’t care.
I had no idea who I was anymore, which version of myself I was pretending to be. The clothes were a representation of all the lies I’d told to everyone, to myself. Of this ugly downward spiral I was on and didn’t care to prevent.
The good girl gone bad . . . rotten to the core.
“Donna.” My name. His voice, so rough, so demanding, no—pleading.
I gritted my teeth and took another swig from the bottle. I’d pushed the image of his tortured face from my mind so hard that now I was hearing him in my head.
“Donna!” Louder, more insistent. The sound of crunching gravel wasn’t just from my own unsteady steps.
I stopped. He was here. My heart soared.
He was here. My heart plummeted into the dirty gravel at my feet.
I turned, resigned. But I didn’t see Hendrix. No, the first thing my addled, fucked-up mind latched on to was Harlow.
My sister stopped, her eyes wide, taking me in. There were a few feet between us—an entire ocean, the Grand Canyon. Mena stood next to her, tears trailing down her cheeks unabashedly as she watched the train wreck I’d become, had been for so long already. Amaya was on Harlow’s other side, hands on hips, breathing hard. The other two were shocked, worried, upset, and Amaya probably was too, but she was the most like me. In the moment, she was ready to take charge, ready to get answers, ready to fix the situation.
Well, I wasn’t a situation, and this couldn’t be fixed. I frowned, fighting the dizziness from the alcohol. “What . . . how did you know . . .”
That’s when I spotted Hendrix. He was standing behind my friends, his face cast in shadow from one of the few lights still operational in the parking lot.
He was here. He’d come after me despite everything. He was here . . .
He’d brought my friends here . . .
What had he told them? Who else knew?
I narrowed my eyes, homing in on the one person who could make me feel more angry—more alive—than any other. I focused on Hendrix as my world fell apart.
“What the fuck have you done?” I sneered, my breathing getting faster and faster.
He blinked but didn’t look surprised I was turning my rage on him.
“You’ve ruined everything.” I seethed, taking a few wobbling