Page 69 of Striking Range

“What do you want?” He sounds tired, like just talking to me is exhausting him.

“Please, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m busy right now.”

“Doing what?” I have to sound desperate, but I don’t care. I need my best friend.

“Drinking. Evie, just go home.”

The line goes dead.

I turn to the Uber driver and say, “Take me to Seabird, please.”

I know Skylar said he was out drinking; what I didn’t know was that he’d be here with him.

They’re standing at a table with a few of Jacob’s football friends, laughing and taking shots. Henry and Kelly are here too.

And Skylar looks amazing in his dark blue jeans and pink shirt, a jean jacket over top. His brown curls fall around his forehead, bouncing as he whips around to shove Henry for whatever it is he’s just said.

He looks happy, like he’s finally able to breathe without me.

And I’m considering leaving. I really, really am. Why wouldn’t I when he’s so at peace and beautiful here without me? I am destruction and terror and pain; I am unfair and cruel.

But then Jacob leans over and whispers in his ear, fingers gently sweeping over the band of Skylar’s jeans. Skylar flushes, nodding softly at whatever he’s saying.

And that ugly thing that lives inside of me now, whatever it is in me that wants to destroy my surroundings and count casualties when it comes to him, it keeps me here. In fact, it spurs me on.

I’m in front of Skylar in seconds, and it’s now that I’m realizing I’m far drunker than I originally thought.

“Fuck,” I hear Kelly whisper as she lodges herself between Jacob and Skylar. Damage control, I guess.

“Skylar.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own; it sounds too loud.

Those big blue eyes meet mine, and they widen, taking me in. He reaches for me on instinct before flinching away.

I wonder what I look like; what mess I’ve conjured throughout the night—how badly Ash really got to me.

“Evie,” he breathes out, like he thinks I might be unreal. Like he’s dreaming.

“Let’s go home,” I tell him. It can be this easy, right?

“He’s on a date, man,” Jacob interjects, ever the smooth talker.

I pay him no mind, repeating, “Let’s go home.”

Skylar looks between Jacob and me, eyes bouncing around.

“Sky, he’s drunk. Take him home.” It’s Kelly talking, her hand on Jacob’s arm.

“Yeah, he looks fucked up,” Henry chips in, most likely commenting more on the wounds than my consumption.

Skylar nods once, turning his gaze from mine to Jacob. I feel the loss like it’s a physical thing.

“Sorry, I need to get Everett home,” he says. “He’s not doing well. Can we catch up another time?”

I turn my attention to Jacob as well, seeing his disappointment as he mutters out, “For real?”

Skylar tilts his head at the question. “For real what? He needs to go home. I’ll text you.”