24. Shane
Shane
I’m walking—no running. I’m running.
What am I running from?
To?
It’s dark—
I sniff.
What was I—
“Shane?” A familiar voice calls out.
Where am I? I spin around, looking for the mysterious voice.
“Dude, what the fuck?” A figure walks off a porch toward me. “You good?”
“Huh?” How the fuck did I get here? “Marcus?”
He scoffs. “Get your ass in the house before someone calls the cops.”
“I was going—actually, I don’t know where I was going. Fucking hell, I’m thirsty.”
He rolls his eyes and shoves me inside the house. All the lights are off. What time is it?
I sniff again, stumbling up the stairs. Everything’s a little hazy, but my feet know the way to the spare bedroom.
I fall down onto the mattress.
Maybe just one more—
Something smacks me in the face. “Go to bed. I’m not dealing with your bullshit tonight.”
I lift the plastic baggie Marcus threw at me. Two white pills.
“It’s on the house if you’ll shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”
Was I talking? I don’t remember saying anything.
I toss the pills into my mouth and chew.
Eventually, the thrumming in my veins settles, and I close my eyes.
I groan, rolling onto my side.
The popping still rings in my ears.
He hurt my sister.
I had to—
One more hit.
One more and the ringing will stop.
When my eyes close, I’m in a dark parking lot. Or maybe I’m actually there?
No. It’s a dream.
A nightmare.
A memory?
I don’t know.
He’s here though.
Rage. Hot-white never-ebbing rage.
My skin tingles.
Cold metal in my hand.
Rapids bellow in my ears before they’re silenced with the pop of a gun.
After three days at Marcus’s, JT barrels in like his ass is on fire to drag me home.
Jon sent him after me.
I’m so fucked.
JT parks at the shop, and my head pounds as the sun beats in through the windshield. I just want to shower and sleep.
“You’re in deep shit, aren’t you?”
I nod.
“Wanna tell me what happened?”
I shake my head because I barely fucking remember what happened.
“Jon’s pretty fucking pissed. If I were you, I’d brace myself.”
No shit. I did exactly what he told me not to.
With a sigh, I climb out of the truck and mosey across the lot to the shop. I’m not in the mood for this shit, but I don’t have much of a choice. When Jon says to get your ass here, you show up.
Cut in hand, I barge into his office and toss it on his desk.
His nostrils flare, and his teeth don’t part as he says, “Please tell me you didn’t fucking do what I think you did.”
I press my lips into a tight line.
“Goddamn it, Shane! I told you I was handling it!”
“No. You were making deals with him.” Pressing a finger into my chest, I bite, “ I fucking handled it.”
I don’t actually remember everything that happened because I was fucked up, but I remember seeing him in the driver’s seat, and I remember being so pissed. Then, the gunshots.
His face turns a deep crimson. “You should be without a club and a fucking job right now! So, I suggest you shut the fuck up before I do just that.”
I stare at him, brows pinched and hold my breath for him to explain.
He blows out a breath and runs a hand down his face. “No one knows it was you. The guys with him didn’t see who did it.”
I stay silent.
“If it stays that way, you keep your patch, but only because if I were in your shoes I’d have done the same thing.” He turns to face me, his dark eyes boring into mine. “But I swear to God, Shane, if you pull some shit like this again, you’re done.”
I nod, not saying a word because I really don’t deserve this.
“You need to lay low for a few weeks just in case. If they do realize it was you, they may be planning something. I’ll cover your drops. Consider it a time-out for the next few weeks since you don’t know how to follow rules any better than a fucking child.”
I nod again.
He flops down in his chair, and without looking at me, he says, “I’ll let you know when you can come back. Get out.”
I guess it’s time to go home.
Fuck.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. For weeks, I’ve dreamt of taking out Tony.
It was all I could think about, all consuming.
I thought I’d feel better now that I’ve done it, but better’s not exactly what I’d call it.
I’m glad he’s gone, he deserved it, but I feel…
wrong. Like whatever bit of good I had was murdered along with him.
Going home feels like dragging a dark cloud into our apartment. Nik doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve any of this. I’ve always known she’s too good for me, but this is the first time I’ve felt like I’m too fucked for her.
The thought physically hurts, but I think I have to let her go. Fuck. I hate this. Every cell in my body is telling me not to, but she deserves a hell of a lot more than this shit.
I’m sweaty and nauseous by the time I make it home. Maybe she’ll be so pissed, she’ll just tell me to get the fuck out and never come back.
She’s lying on the couch when I walk in and turns around, resting her arms on the back. I drop my eyes to the floor as a sad smile ghosts her lips, and she says, “Hey.”
I hate that she sounds so casual. Me coming home after days of being missing is just the norm.
I can’t look at her, making a beeline for our room. I’ll just get my shit and go. It’ll be easier that way.
“Shane,” she barks.
I stop halfway to the bedroom but don’t face her. I can’t.
“What the hell? You’ve been gone for three days, and you’re just gonna walk in without saying anything?”
I sigh. “What would you like me to say?”
“I don’t know. Where’ve you been?”
“Club shit.”
“I talked to JT yesterday. He hadn’t seen you either.”
I groan, finally turning around to face her, my head feeling like it might explode at any minute. “Why did you ask if you weren’t gonna believe me anyway?”
“Why are you lying about it?”
“What the fuck do you want?” Grinding my teeth, I clench my fists at my sides. “You want me to tell you that I’ve spent the last three days fucked up? You already knew that! That’s what I do!”
“I just want you to tell me the truth!”
“Okay.” Sighing, I run a hand down my face. “The truth is, I got high and hunted down the piece of shit that killed your friend and shot my sister! Not only am I a junkie, but now I’m a fucking murderer!”
Her mouth pops open.
That’s right. I’m a fucking monster.
Run.
“Yeah. So, don’t fucking tell me you want me to tell you the truth!” My voice breaks.
“Oh my god,” she mutters, and her eyes double in size.
I swallow hard, trying to bury the burning that’s clawing its way up my chest.
“What do you mean you killed him?”
I lift my face to the ceiling and press my fingers into my eyes. “I mean, I saw him a couple of nights ago and shot him like he shot Akers.”
She whispers, “Holy shit!”
I can’t look at her. Everyone looks at me like I’m a plague. Everyone but her, and I’m not sure I can stand it if I find out that’s changed.
“Did it hurt?”
Finally, I whip my attention to her. “What?”
“I mean, did he suffer?”
My brows pinch as I try to remember. It’s still fuzzy.
I can’t read her face when she asks, “Are you gonna go to jail?”
When I shake my head, her eyes shut, and her shoulders loosen as she breathes a sigh of ... relief? Shaking my head again, I watch as her face relaxes a little like she’s relieved.
She stands and takes a few steps toward me. The room grows hotter with every step she takes toward me.
I pull away. “I can’t fucking do this. Nik, you need to get the fuck away from me.” I dart for the door.
“Shane!”
“I’m not doing this with you.” I stalk away, but she races after me, grabbing my arm. Her touch burns. I rip it back. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
“Don’t be a dick!”
“If you don’t like it, get the fuck out!” I shout.
“This is my apartment!”
I gotta get out of here. I can’t breathe. “You know what, you’re right!” I grab my keys.
“Stop it!” She pushes between me and the door, her chest heaving. “You’re not fucking leaving!”
I grind my molars, staring at her. Everything spins and my hands shake.
The ringing starts again in my ears.
Pop!
Red, pooling under Ash. Pooling under Akers.
She screams, snapping me back to the present. “What the fuck! Why do you keep doing this shit to me! I’m the only one on your fucking side despite this shit and you treat me like I don’t even fucking matter!”
“Do what to you? No one’s making you stay!”
She’s still shouting, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. The ringing is so fucking loud!
I think I’m shouting back, but I don’t know what I’m even saying, I just know I have to get out of here.
I step to the side to get to the door.
She grabs my arm again.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I scream, shoving her backward.
She stumbles into the entry table.
The ceramic bowl falls to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces, scattering our things everywhere.
The room goes still. The ringing stops, and it’s just me and Nikki.
Fuck.
I just—
I didn’t mean—
I take a step toward her, hold out a hand. Pull it back.
Don’t you dare fucking touch her.
“Fuck,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut and pulling my hair at the root. “Nikki—” My chest caves in. “I need to go.”
This time as I charge for the door, she doesn’t try to stop me.
Taking the stairs two at a time, the building feels like it’s suffocating me, but as I fling open the door and step outside, that feeling doesn’t stop.
I can’t breathe. My hands shake as I run across the parking lot and climb into my truck, but after starting the engine, I can’t move.
Damn it.
Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I let out a strangled groan. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Sweat beads on my skin, my stomach churns.
I’m just fucking like him. After everything, I’ve turned into the man I hate more than anyone in the world.
I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t trying to hurt her.
I just needed some space to breathe, but what kind of monster am I to have shoved her away like that?
I stare out at the night sky. I’m going to have to leave at some point. Walk away and finally set her free. But I can’t bring myself to put the goddamn truck in drive. Every moment I stay right here is another moment not spent in the after we broke up.
I’ve never liked who I am, but this is the first time I truly fucking hate myself.
“Shane, please come home. We need to talk. You can’t ghost me like this.”
Beep.
“Are you fucking kidding me? This is what you do after this long together? Fuck you.”
Beep.
“Just tell me we’re over. Just call me and tell me so I can move on.”
Beep.
“Jon says you’re detoxing. I-I’m really proud of you. If that’s why you haven’t called, that’s okay. I understand. Call me when you can.”
Beep.
“It’s been weeks, Shane … I just …” Sigh. “I love you.”
Block.