The pub is only three blocks away; when we get there, we're seated at a booth right in front of the television—with a perfect view of the game.
We both order a beer and a burger, and are onto our second drink by the time the food arrives. Saige definitely seems more relaxed than she normally is at the house.
I feel weird about it—like we're keeping her prisoner. Although the text messages persist almost daily, it's been weeks, and they haven't escalated. I know I'm not the only one starting to wonder if maybe they aren't related to Miles after all, and it's just someone fucking around with Saige—Dax brought it up the other day, too. It could even be random and have nothing to do with her, either.
Maybe we should let her out of her cage more often. But maybe she wouldn't come back, and then what?
"You look deep in thought," Saige says. "Any chance in hell you'll tell me what that thought…" She trails off, all the color draining from her face, and I follow her eyes to the picture windows in the front of the pub.
I look up just in time to catch a glimpse of a man in all black with a skull printed ski mask over his face before he disappears from view.
"Did you see him, too?" she asks.
"Yes…" But it's not that strange—seeing someone dressed up like that on campus, especially this time of year. What was weird was how he seemed to look directly at Saige.
She is the prettiest girl here, though. I'd look at her, too.
"Have you seen him before?"
She nods. "Once. In the backyard."
"Stay right here."
"No, please don't leave me here by myself."
"I'll be right back…just sit here and don't move."
Clenching my fists, I all but run through the pub and out the front door. I'm itching to put a fucking stop to this. Maybe I can't be everything to her, but Icando this. I know without a shadow of a fucking doubt I can outrun and overpower whoever has been threatening her, and when I get my hands on him, I'm going to beat him to a bloody fucking pulp.
I want to feel what it's like when bone crunches under my fists. I haven't done it in years, and I was much weaker than I am now. I think about it a lot—hurting people. Sometimes, I think it would fix me. But they'd have to deserve it.
It was hard not to do it to Miles's lifeless body, just to see how it would feel. But I didn't want to scare her when I knew she was already afraid of me.
Unfortunately, when I step outside, he's gone. I walk the block; I look inside the other bars and restaurants, and stalk down the alleyway behind the building, but whoever it is, they're either long fucking gone or really fucking good at hiding.
Defeated, I unclench my fists and return to the pub and to a very relieved Saige.
"Jesus…you were gone for so long. I was freaking out."
"I couldn't fucking find him," I tell her. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry," she says.
"No, I just…" I shake my head before running my hands through my hair, looking up at the ceiling when I exhale. The truth is, I'm fucking pissed. "I really wanted to end this for you. I can't do anything else for you."
"That's not true. I mean, I realize that our relationship is transactional, but I think you're my only friend."
"Here's your check," the server says, setting our bill on the table.
"Can you split it?" Saige asks, pulling her card from her wallet.
"I sure can."
I shake my head and hand her my debit card instead. "No. Don't split it. Take this one."
When she leaves with the card, I turn to Saige and say, "I don't think of it that way."
And that's it. That's all my dumbass manages to fucking say. But of course, she thinks it's just transactional. Not only do I give her nothing, Dax said as much just a few hours earlier.
