7. Veronica
CHAPTER 7
Veronica
I hate Vegas.
There are too many people here. The streets are crowded, the air smells awful, and it’s too loud. Every so often, someone hands me a card for an escort service. They insist I take it, so I do—only to flick it back in their faces.
Not only is it too loud and overstimulating, but everything is too damn expensive! How is anyone supposed to eat or shop without breaking the bank? I’ve been getting food at a convenience store because I have to be careful with the money Slater gives me.
The food isn’t great. I think the food at Black Lake was better than the garbage they sell at these stores. Today, I settled on a chicken salad sandwich, cheap off-brand chips, and a water bottle.
I sit outside under the sun in front of the Bellagio, waiting for the fountain show to begin. It is honestly the only thing that has kept me entertained.
Why did I come to the most popular place for gambling when, one, I don’t even like gambling, and two, I don’t have any fucking money to waste? I only have enough to keep me running.
I break apart the plastic container, opening it to get to my sandwich. Taking a decent-sized bite, I watch the people around me.
A mother is chasing her toddler, who is going feral. The little girl is screaming and giggling as her little arms flail. Although I don’t like children, I laugh because she is having so much fun despite making her mother angry.
I shake my head, and right when I am about to take another bite of my sandwich, I hear the crowd behind me collectively gasp in awe.
Thanks to my curiosity, I turn my head, and I get a sharp pain in my gut when my eyes immediately find a man wearing black slacks, a fancy white button-down, and perfectly styled brown hair.
He is on one knee in front of a woman, obviously proposing. I stare at the back of the man’s head, and... no... it can’t be... Leo? My eyes move to the woman standing before him with her hands cupping her mouth, and I glare at her. The brown strands of her hair blow gently in the wind.
The fountain show begins, catching my attention for only a moment. I whip my head back to look at the man, blinking my eyes a few times. Realizing that it is not Leo— my Leo —I roll my eyes at the public proposal.
What a cliche.
But something still doesn't feel right.
Watching how happy they are makes my mind wander to the moments I spent with Leo at Black Lake. I’ve been trying to push him out of my thoughts, but he keeps fighting his way back in. It’s like everywhere I turn, I’m constantly reminded of what happened that night in the woods.
Is this what guilt feels like?
Setting the sandwich down, I take out my phone and return to the article I now know by heart. I don’t return to it to read it. I return because they added a photo of him to the news article, and I can’t stop staring at it.
He is so damn handsome.
Sighing at the memories of being with him, there is a flutter in my stomach and between my legs, remembering how it felt to have his hands on me. To have him inside me.
“I think you are perfect,” he says breathlessly.
“We talked about this; I’m anything but perfect.”
He has me bent over the vanity in his bathroom, pounding into me from behind so roughly that my hips will most likely bruise from the impact of them hitting the counter. His hand weaves through my hair, tilting my face up to watch myself in the mirror. However, I flick my eyes up to his.
They are full of lust, love, and desperation.
“Maybe you’re perfect to me,” he states, yanking my hair a bit tighter. “You always feel so good wrapped around me. The perfect fit.”
I snap out of the daydream, the ache growing between my thighs at the thought of that night.
I guess it isn’t all that bad to think about him. Well, at least when this foreign feeling isn’t taking over my body. If this is what guilt feels like, then does that mean I feel guilty for what I did to him? Stabbing him and leaving him alone in those woods?
Do I feel guilty for stabbing Leo?
I could have gone about it another way, so yeah… I guess I do feel guilty.
When I told him that I would never hurt him, I was telling the truth, but out there in the woods, being hunted like an animal, my survival instincts kicked in, and I resorted to old habits.
With this new emotion swirling around in my body, causing chaos, I lift my eyes to the happy couple, who are now hugging while everyone claps around them. All of these strangers are ecstatic for people they don’t even know.
It makes me wonder what it would be like to be happy for someone else or myself. I know the things I’ve done in the past have labeled me as a crazy person, but does that mean I don’t deserve to feel these things that others do?
I look at my phone again, and Leo’s professional photo stares back at me. In this short time, after sitting here in Vegas and watching this proposal, I have decided to do something crazy. It's a difficult decision, but every day that I’m on the run is a risk.
I have to see him.
With my eyes on my phone, I sense someone coming towards me. Lifting my gaze over the top of my phone, four pairs of black, shiny shoes are approaching me. I drift my eyes up and see two police officers.
My heart pounds as I lock my phone and calmly set it on my lap. Sweat rolls down the back of my neck, but I’m not sure if it's because of the heat or the nerves. I even control my breathing, not showing any sign of panic on the outside. Plastering on a fake smile, I hold it as they approach me.
“Hello, ma’am,” the officer on the left greets me. He is bald, and the skin on his head is probably burning from the excessive UV index today.
“Hello, officer!” I say in my nicest voice. “Is there something wrong?”
“Well,” the second officer says, hooking his thumbs into his bulletproof vest. He is younger than his partner, maybe a couple of years older than me, and has thick brown hair on his head.
After that one word, the silence stretches to an unbelievably irritating length—the two look at each other, and the younger one glances behind him.
Shit. Are they trying to figure out how to arrest me without making a scene?
I clutch my phone tighter in my hand as the young officer asks, “A man is wandering around trying to steal women’s belongings. You haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary, have you?”
My brows dip as I pretend to think about his question. Slowly shaking my head, I say, “No, I haven’t. I’ve only been sitting here for a little while. I’m not sure I could be of any help.”
They both give me a curt nod before the older man speaks, “If you do see anything, please let us know. We will be in this area for a bit.”
“Will do,” I respond before they leave.
While I watch them walk away, I breathe a sigh of relief. Tucking my phone back into my purse, I seal the sandwich in the container and head out.
I don’t want to risk sitting here anymore, and I need to figure out when and how to get back to Seattle.