The girl who caused a fracture.
The girl people look at and lower their voices around, like I’m going to bite.
I pack a bag. Not much. Just enough to leave without drama.
Lottie finds me halfway through.
“You running?” she asks quietly.
“I need air.”
“This is air.”
“It feels like a coffin.”
She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“That could’ve been your funeral, Brit,” she says.
I shake my head not wanting to listen.
“If Bethany got her way and cut out your eyes and your tongue, how long do you think you’d live? Bethany planned to kill you, Brit. You didn’t start it. You finished it.”
I say nothing.
“Where you gonna go?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Lexington. Louisville. Somewhere I’m not a headline.”
“You think you won’t be?” she asks gently. “Small towns gossip. Big cities archive.”
I zip the bag anyway. “I can’t stay here and be the reason every time someone looks at him sideways.”
Her expression softens. “You ain’t the reason.”
“I am,” I whisper. “Whether it’s fair or not.”
The knock on the front door comes before I can finish.
My heart stutters. I know who it is before Lottie opens it.
Oaks doesn’t storm in. He doesn’t slam anything.
He steps down the basement stairs slow, controlled, eyes taking in the open bag on the bed.
“You leaving?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Why.”
Because I love you too much to ruin you. Because I see the way officers hesitate now.
Instead I say, “I can’t live somewhere people think I’m a monster.”
“I’ve buried bodies for this club,” he says quietly. “I’ve taken hits. I’ve made choices I can’t undo. You think I give a fuck about whispers?”
“This ain’t about whispers,” I say. “It’s about what this does to you.”
