Page 98 of Striking Range

I search my drunk memory, trying to pinpoint a moment in which he did. I’m searching so desperately that I feel no embarrassment as I remember it leaving my own mouth.

But no. I have no recollection of Everett ever returning the sentiment; of Everett gifting me those three words.

What is happening right now? The past is coming to an end, and until a few minutes ago, the future looked so bright.

There has to be an explanation. There is no way that Everett can look at me the way he does, that he can touch me in such a way, and not love me. He does not hold it within himself to hurt me.

My soul lives within him, and his within me—it would be a self-inflicting wound to harm me now.

I pull into the parking lot in a hurry, killing the engine toward the back in one of the empty spaces. There is no guarantee that he is still here, but outings at this kind of restaurant typically last longer than an hour, right? I can only hope.

So I wait. I sit in the driver’s seat of my car and stare at the entrance with dedication, all the while attempting to calm my own raging heartbeat.

I am overthinking this. Even if it is Ashley, her parents could very well be clients of the Carmichaels and could have been inside by the time Mom drove past. This could all be a huge misunderstanding.

But as I see Everett exit the restaurant with his adoptive parents in tow, I spot Ashley next to him, his hand intertwined with hers. No one else is around.

Ash pats Everett on the back, smiling widely as they speak. Felicita leans in to kiss Ashley on the cheek. As they walk to Everett’s car, he opens the door for her, holding her hand as she sits.

And I… I begin to rapidly deflate.

This is not a misunderstanding—this is a fucking double date. One that I am not a part of as Everett smiles easily and parts ways with his family.

It should be me at his side. I have earned the right to stand next to him in all settings, even ones as delicate as this. So why am I here, hiding in my car?

Why am I on the outside, looking in as Everett lives a life separate from my own? Is my soul not buried deep inside his chest, the way his lies deep within mine?

And as I watch his car leave the parking lot, I expect that little piece of me, the one filled with rage and violence, to rise to the surface. But it doesn’t.

Instead, a deep sorrow overcomes me. A pain I have never truly experienced takes the air from my lungs and chokes me, forming tears in my eyes and a gaping void within my heart.

Everett is cheating on me. Whether it is for the sake of his adoptive parents or for himself, it does not matter. He is cheating.

How am I meant to stomach this? How am I expected to survive this nuclear bomb, this great fallout? Of the two of us, I always figured that I was the malicious one; the one who could dismember and poison another.

I was wrong. I was so terribly, unexpectedly wrong, as I underestimated the cruelty of him.

I have lowered my guard, and this time, it is me who has stumbled into striking range. And Everett has so carelessly lunged, fangs dropped for a killing blow.

There is only one way to do damage control in this situation: I have to separate myself from Everett before I collapse completely. I have to shield myself before I let it affect the portion of my future I can hold onto.

I mean, finals are tomorrow. I have to concentrate.

This means changing the locks. Everett has a key to my place, and I can’t very well hide from him if he can come and go as he pleases.

So, on my way home, I dry my tears and hit the hardware store that’s near campus. I search the aisles, grabbing a new door handle, a screwdriver, and two sets of keys. I’ll have to give one to the front desk at my complex.

It might be a flimsy way to protect myself, but it’s the only thing I can control at the moment. Well, that and turning my phone off. I just have to get this finished before Everett tries to come over again.

As I move toward the checkout, I spot a familiar face at the entrance.

Jacob catches my stare, his expression turning stony in the yellow lights that are illuminated above.

“Skylar,” he says emotionlessly.

“Hey, Jacob,” I greet. “How have you been?”

“Fine.”