I’ve missed him more than I’d care to admit, even with our messy history. Things between him and I used to feel so easy, so natural, even though I always knew in the far back of my mind that they shouldn’t. Leaving here was hard, in large part because of him and the feelings I developed. Since the moment I started my new life, I’ve tried like hell to push the memory out of my mind for good.
And for the most part, I’ve been successful.
I keep myself busy with the shop, so there isn’t a whole lot of time for reminiscing. It makes sense, what with the anniversary of Lana’s death, that shit like this would come back into my mind, front and center.
“Why are you here, Josiah?” Smoke billows around him as he watches me, waiting for my response.
“Catching up with an old friend,” I lie, pointing my thumb toward the inside of the bar. “Chevy.”
“You drove all those hours to catch up with a friend you were never that close with? Right,” he scoffs. “Like I fucking believe that.”
“How are you doing, Segan?”
“I’m doing fucking wonderful, man.” He throws his arms up in the air, letting out another dry laugh. “Living the goddamn dream.”
Back to the wall, I take another drag.
“Still doing drugs?” I question, knowing I’m walking a thin line with him and his short-fuse patience. “You look strung out.”
His fist connects with my jaw before I even know what’s coming, red-hot pain radiating through my face and down into my neck. My hand instinctively shoots up to rub where he hit me. I can’t even be mad. I knew I was poking the bear.
“You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, Josiah.” With one last drag, he drops the cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his shoe. “Get out of here. This ain’t your fucking home anymore.”
Without another word or a glance back at me, he storms inside. He’s right. This isn’t my home, and it never will be again. Coming here was stupid. I already knew that, but this just proves it. I have no business being here anymore.
14
SEGAN
My mind is a hazy, chaotic mess of memories I don’t want to think about. All of which have everything to do with the man across the bar, shooting looks at me every so often.
Why the fuck is he here?It makes no sense. He left this town. Moved away. And now, with Lana dead, he has no fucking reason to return. So, what gives?
I’m shaken from my thoughts when fingers snap in front of me, bringing me back to the here and now. Quinn’s watching me with wide eyes, confusion written all over his face. Not that I blame him; I’ve been a fucking mess for the last day. This weird as hell run-in with Josiah definitely isn’t helping. I’ll admit, though, punching him outside felt pretty damn good.
“Want to talk about whatever’s bothering you, man?” Quinn asks, like the good friend he is. The type of friend I don’t deserve.
The type of friend I’ll never be able to be to him. Or anyone.
“Nah, I’m all good.” It’s a lie. He knows it. I know it.
How am I supposed to tell him what’s wrong? How am I supposed to look at this guy, who’s basically my only fucking friend, and tell him that one of the worst days of my life is still haunting me? The day Lana destroyed us with her lies and her vices. The phone call I received yesterday bounces around my mind on replay. The way the doctor sounded as he delivered the news, how I know he was trying to be comforting and reassuring, and how it felt hearing those words. How my life managed to stand still as soon as they were spoken into existence. How I knew from the moment he said them, that my life would never be the fucking same.
And it’s allherfault.
Lana’s gone, yet she’s still able to fuck with my life all the way from the other side.
Fuck that.
I fucking refuse to become a shell of who I am. I’m sick of her death looming over me.
“Hey, listen,” I say out of nowhere to Quinn, “I gotta go. Have something I need to take care of. Thanks for always being a friend, even when I made it hard.”
A look I can’t read crosses over his face. “You sure? It’s still pretty early.”
“Yeah. I can’t stay. See ya.”
We drove separately tonight because I knew I’d bail early. The baggies I have are burning a hole in my pocket, and I’m ready. I’ve thought about this all day yesterday and all today.
