Five Days Later
It’s been five goddamn days since I accidentally-on-purpose walked into Marley at The Grind, we exchanged phone numbers, then I watched her disappear, and I haven’t heard a single word.
Not a text.
Not a call.
Nothing.
I tell myself it’s fine and that she’s processing. That she had a hell of a week and needs space. But the truth is, every time my phone buzzes, my chest tightens with hope, and every time it’s not her, something dark and restless coils tighter in my gut.
I told myself I wouldn’t text her.
I wouldn’t be the creeper that Queenie was warning me about.
So, I haven’t text messaged her.
But maybe she is waiting for me to text her?
Fuck, why am I so fucking bad at this shit?
It’s currently 11:04 p.m. on Saturday, and I’m deciding whether to turn in as I sit in the middle of the clubhouse, watching Sin and Victoria make out against the wall. Ro is cleaning up for the night. Ghost is heading off to his den. Millie and Will sit quietly together, talking about God only knows what, when my cell starts ringing. Furrowing my brows at who the fuck is calling me at this stupid hour, I glance at the screen, seeing an unknown number.
Groaning, I almost think about not answering, but my instinct makes me think of Queenie. Maybe something is wrong with her, so I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Nitrooo!” Marley’s voice comes through the speaker, loud, giggly, and if I am not mistaken, absolutely, completely, one hundred percent drunk. “It’s me! Marley! Remember me?”
My grip tightens around the phone. “Marley? Where are you?”
“I’m at—” There’s a muffled sound, suggesting she’s moving the phone away from her mouth. “Sage, what’s this place called?”
A different voice comes through, also slurred but more coherent. “Tell him we’re at Murphy’s on Third Street. And tell him we need a ride because Marley can barely stand.”
“I can t-totally stand,” Marley protests in the background, then there’s a crash and giggling. “Okay, maybe not.” She giggles, followed by an obnoxious hiccup.
Ice floods my veins, chased immediately by white-hot anger, not at her,never at her, but at whoever the fuck let her get this wasted. “Stay exactly where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
“My hero!” Marley sings out, and despite everything, despite the fear clawing at my throat, my lips twitch.
I’m walking to the clubhouse door in seconds.
“Nitro, brother, where the fuck are you going?” Sin calling after me.
But I don’t stop to explain. I grab my keys and head for the Honda. My Harley would be faster, but there’s no way I’m putting a drunk Marley on the back of my bike.
The drive to Murphy’s takes twelve minutes, but it feels like twelve stinking hours. My mind is racing with worst-case scenarios. What if she wanders out into traffic? What if some asshole tries to take advantage of her? What if she’s hurt, and I’m not there to—
Fucking breathe, Nitro.
I pull up outside Murphy’s, a dive bar with neon signs flickering in the window, and spot them immediately. Marley issitting on the curb with her head between her knees, her red hair falling around her face like a curtain. Sage is standing over her, one hand on Marley’s back, the other holding both their purses.
I’m out of the car before I’ve even put it in park properly.
“Small Town,” I say softly, crouching down beside her.
Her head snaps up, and even in the dim light, her eyes are glassy and unfocused. But when she sees me, her entire face lights up as though I’m the best thing she’s ever laid eyes on.
“Nitro!” She throws her arms around my neck, nearly toppling us both over. “You came.”
