“And if I get caught up in any of this shit, I go down harder than before.” Fucked up, isn’t it—I’m out a few hours and already bracing myself for going back in.No. This time, I’m not gonna get caught. This time, I’ll be in charge.“Maybe I don’t get out.”
“I know.”
We’re both quiet again, for a long time. I search that wilderness for Margot’s wolf, but the hills are eerie and still, watchful, patient. After a while, Margot goes inside and brings back a bottle of whiskey. She pours it in our mugs and we salute one another.
“I missed this,” she says, drinking. “Tell me what you missed the most.”
“You,” I say. “Dad. The open air.”
Margot sighs wistfully and we drink.
And her, I think, but don’t dare say.Plot-twist girl. Sneak-attack girl. Sleeper-in-the-ring girl. Always-been-there-and-you-didn’t-see-her girl.
The one who got away.
The one who never, not once in those three years, came to see me.
I want to ask Margot so bad it hurts, but I can’t bring myself to. Their friendship sets up that question with spike-pits and trip-wires, and anyway, how weak would I be to still love a girl I only held in my arms once, a girl who hasn’t seen my face in a thousand days?
I ask the bottom of my mug instead, drinking deeply and welcoming the sweet, merciful haze that begins to crop up in the recesses of my mind.
Lexie Rynne,I wonder to myself.Where are you now?
2
Lexie
Out.
I brace myself against the bathroom sink, look my reflection in the eye.
Out.
It’s not a surprise, but it’s still a shock. I’ve known for a long time. I’ve kept close track, actually, a pretty easy feat when you work at a paper and people are always collecting little scraps of gossip, rumors caught in wide-cast nets. No one would think to mention it to me; after all, I haven’t seen Margot in years.
But I never could look at her the same, after. Too afraid she’d catch the guilt in my eyes. Too afraid she’d see it, the truth: that I’d fallen, hard. That I was in love with him.
Out.
I look haggard, eyes too wild and hair escaping its haphazard bun. I splash some water on my face, straighten my blouse. It’s cream-colored, speckled with little pink blossoms—does he remember what I was wearing that night at the theater? The white dress with red flowers? He’d unbuttoned it, brushed it from my shoulders, trailed his lips along my spine. Does he remember the way it dropped around my ankles? Does he remember the way he looked at me? The way I melted under the heat of those forbidden eyes?
Fuck.I drop my face into my hands. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. It’s been three years. Threeyears, and not once did he write me, or call me, or…did he even think of me in there? Long, endless lonely nights, month after month, year after year?
Did I even cross his mindonce?
Does he have any idea how often he crossed mine?
A knock at the door and Shireen, the intern, pokes her head in. “All good? Liza’s waiting in her office.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course. Two minutes?”
Shireen nods and disappears.
I look myself in the eye once more. Of course he gets out the day I’m talking to my boss about a raise. Of course he’s totally, fully,alreadyunder my skin and I haven’t even seen him. What does he look like now, I wonder? What did prison do to him?
Do I really want to know?
No. I don’t. Can’t. That part of my life is over. Liam, whoever and wherever he is now, can’t matter to me anymore. Just like these last three years I didn’t matter to him. I’ll just take care of myself. God knows I’ve learned how.
