“Santa Fe? New Mexico?”
She nodded eagerly. “Have you ever been?”
“Not even close.”
“Oh, you’re gonna love it!” Bobbitt chirped. “It’s beautiful, and the food there is to die for.”
I’d never traveled so far away from home, but the thought had me nearly vibrating with excitement. Heading west meant I would be even farther away from home.
Farther away from the Stone pack.
With every bit of distance I put between me and them, I was starting to truly feel free. Eventually, I would get so far away that I wouldn’t have to worry about looking over my shoulder or keeping my face hidden. I’d be so far away that they’d never catch up; they’d never find me.
A smile of relief curled my lips.
I’ll finally be able to put my past behind me.
For the first time, I was truly seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
NIGHT
I absentmindedly swirled my glass of bourbon around on the table as I stared at the door. The trailer was dark, illuminated only by the streetlight glow coming in through the unobstructed window. I hadn’t had time to get the blinds replaced since I ripped them down, nor had I bothered to hang a sheet over the tinted glass. It was the least of my worries.
I’d been sitting here for an hour. Shirtless, wearing nothing but pajama pants. Contemplating, letting my mind wander.
Tonight's show was flawless. Thankfully. I didn't feel like dealing with a Hallow meltdown if anything went awry, especially after Zero's fuck up last night. It had obviously backfired—the beta was still here—but he’d risked a lot fucking with the set list. I had to give Arina credit where it was due, she held her own in the cage with the stuntmen last night. And she performed flawlessly with Zero tonight.
Aside from some awkward uncertainty surrounding the newest troupe member, everything tonight went off without a hitch. The opening number was flawless; the acts wereperformed to perfection. The morale backstage had been unparalleled before everyone started breaking down equipment. Dallas had been a show for the books.
Then why do I still feel like shit?
I ran my tongue over my teeth, still staring at the door, unblinkingly. I knew the answer, whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not.
My miserable mood had nothing to do with the show at all.
The disappointment I felt, the nagging feeling in my gut that refused to go away, had everything to do with how empty my trailer felt. There was a gaping hole, a void, where Daze should have been. But he wasn't here to ramble on about pointless things or pester me for attention.
He was… gone.
I brought the glass to my lips and took a swing of the brown liquid. It might have been my second drink—or third. I’d lost count. I didn't care.
I’d keep drinking until I passed out on the couch.
Or maybe I’d fall asleep here at the dining table.
What does it matter?
Outside of our performances, I hadn’t seen or spoken to Daze. It was the longest we’d gone without interacting since he moved in a few years ago and it felt… wrong. So very wrong.
I’d tidied up the trailer—probably the cleanest it had ever been—but he hadn’t come back since he left Friday night. The chances of him coming back tonight were low, but I was still here. Waiting. Just in case.
I thought about seeking him out. More than likely, he was staying on the aerialist bus. At least, that was my guess. What I hoped. I didn’t want to think about him possibly shacking up with Arina and the clowns.
Zero would never allow it.
He’d at least tell me, right?
