Axle did something I didn’t think I’d ever seen him do.
He smiled.
“Good man.”
Kaitlyn
Hours passed.
I got nothing from Michael.
I couldn’t make sense of it. Something had happened between him and the club, there was no doubt about that. And something had happened between him and Lane—that was pretty damn obvious from the bruise on Lane’s eye.
But had something happened between us?
Had I said something this morning or done something by calling him that triggered such avoidance? What, if anything, had I done?
The more time that went by, the more I began to think about how the club life ultimately was like a cancer that hurt everyone. Even in good situations, like the one Michael and I had—or I thought we had—it led to spots like this. Best friends fighting best friends. Romantic interests becoming sullen and withdrawn, refusing to communicate with the outside world. Other forms of darkness.Death.
The good ones, like Michael, eventually fell into darkness, and those already in the darkness just became even more evil.
Of course, my mind was racing, and I couldn’t think straight right now. I hated that the girl I prided myself on being, the confident one willing to stand up to bullshit, was now suddenly the one acting like a teenager who had never been in love with Michael. But I also knew that any action I took right now to try and rectify that was only going to be a façade that would crumble under the slightest of weight.
In my apartment, I pulled up his number and started to text him.
“Hey, Michael, I hope you’re doing okay.”
Was that enough of a message? Was that really what I wanted to send?
“I’ve been thinking about the past few days, and...”
There was no way I could start a message like that and not have Michael immediately just block me out. Even if my fingers wanted to write that this was done and I needed distance, that wasn’t what my heart wanted.
I put the phone down before I could write anything else and took a moment to consider what I really wanted.
I wanted the happy, cheerful Michael, the one who had first tried to seduce me at Mama Sue’s and at Bottle Revolution. I wanted the Michael who had taken me to Hidden Cellar and to the Griffith Observatory. I wanted the Michael that I had fooled around with last night.
But could I really get that Michael forever? Which Michael was the one that had the mask on? That Michael, or the one that had to be tough and strong for the club?
What if neither side is the mask? What if that’s just two sides of the same person? Did you consider that?
And for that matter, could I get one without the other?
My heart seemed hellbent on having a happy relationship with him. Too bad that my mind seemed to argue that no matter how much I tried to have that, there would be so many obstacles in the way that I just couldn’t make it work.
I grabbed my phone and stared at the unsent message. It just didn’t feel right to send it like this. If I was going to end it, especially after we had fooled around some last night, I think I at least owed him the courtesy of an in-person meeting.
For now, I just sent the message, “Hey, Michael, I hope you’re doing okay.” I didn’t think anything else of it.
In fact, in an attempt to clear my head, I left my phone on my bed as I grabbed my keys and headed for my car. I needed to get some fresh air, and I needed to get away from all of the insanity that was happening in my life right now.
* * *
I rode around Springsville at a slow but safe pace, more content to just drive wherever the road took me than to any one particular destination. I knew this town well, but like any other place, there were always nooks and crannies that I hadn’t yet explored that I welcomed as a distraction. There was the north side of Springsville, which people just didn’t go to because there was nothing but empty roads and highways beyond, for example.
Hours passed. It was mid-afternoon, around the time when Devon would usually get out for her Friday shift. Though I knew she probably didn’t want anything to do with me, I still felt compelled to go and say hi to her. Maybe trying to make things right through kindness would wind up just being more annoying than helpful, but I had to start somewhere.
I headed over to the hospital only to see something strange just before I pulled into the parking lot—Devon was walking to her car quickly, with her scrubs still on. While some nurses preferred to wash their garments at home and not in the presence of others, Devon wasn’t like that. Devon very much preferred to leave her work clothes at work.
