Chaos and Control(72)

I lean on the bar across from her. “You have no idea. I feel like I’m stuck in a melodramatic Lifetime movie right now.”

“Small-town life a little more complicated than you remember?”

“You could say that.” I pour myself a glass of water and swallow down half of it.

“Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m around. That is, if you can stand being seen with a band nerd.”

“Hey,” I say, pointing at her. “High school does not define us for the rest of our lives. It’s crazy how we think that time is so important. In the grand scheme of things, those four years were nothing.”

Angela raises her eyebrows, seeming impressed.

“Wow. Check out the wisdom from Miss Hart.”

“I’m definitely not ‘Most Likely to be a Celebrity’ anymore,” I tease. “So, how are things with Sawyer?”

“Didn’t you tell mouth breather earlier to mind his business?”

I laugh and slap the bar. “I sure did. Sorry for asking.”

Angela smiles and gives me a grin. “I’m kidding. It’s still very new, you know? We’re great, Wren. He’s great. I’m great.”

“Sounds great.”

We both chuckle as Sawyer wraps his arms around her from behind. He places a kiss on her cheek, and Angela’s entire face lights up. Her joy and nervous energy remind me of my own infatuation with Preston.

“Good night, Wren,” Angela says as she makes her way toward the door.

“Later.”

“I’ll be there in a second,” Sawyer tells her. Angela nods and leans against the front window, checking her cell phone for something to do.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“I checked out that Dylan guy.”

“And?”

“He’s got a pretty long rap sheet, Wren. What the hell were you doing?”

I roll my eyes. “Spare me the lecture. That’s history. Where is he now?”

“Well, as of three days ago, he’s locked up in St. Louis on a drunk and disorderly charge.”

“Good. At least he’s in jail,” I say, exhaling.

“For now,” Sawyer answers, giving me a stern look. “I’ll keep an eye on him and let you know if anything changes. Call me if you need anything. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, snapping off a salute. “Thanks.”

Sawyer gives me a nod before heading out. I can’t help but feel relieved knowing where Dylan is at the moment. That little bit of comfort lets me focus on finishing up my work.

When the place is clean and I’ve collected my tips, I tell Coach good-bye and step outside. Preston stands in his usual spot, leaned against the building, his thick arms crossed over his chest. The sight of him makes my chest ache. I miss him, our conversations, his touch, the way he counts out kisses. But the nagging lie sits on the forefront of my brain, and I can’t let it go.

He greets me with a cautious smile and steps toward me. The grip on my bag tightens, and in this dark, quiet night I’m glad he’s here. I don’t say a word as I step into the parking lot and head for the street.

Preston seems to be okay with walking in silence. He follows behind me, giving me the room he knows I need. My mind is at war, wanting to fight and wanting to keep quiet. His gaze on my back unnerves me until I can’t stand the space between us. I feel my frustration growing and growing.

A block from Vinyl I spin to face him. Preston stops in his tracks. He looks so unsure of himself, eyes downcast, hands tucked deep into his pockets.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“To make sure you get home safely.”

“I don’t need an escort.” My voice is harsher than I intend.

“Bennie told me you got another envelope today.”

I exhale in a huff and prop my hands on my hips. “That doesn’t give you the right to follow me around like some lost puppy. I mean, what are you going to do if Dylan shows up?”

I glare at him, waiting for a response. Preston looks out at the road past me.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“Would you even be able to touch him?”

My words are harsh, and I instantly want to take them back. Preston’s face is an open book, and the blow I’ve just delivered hit its target beautifully. I stomp into the back alley, through the back door and up the stairs. When I’m in the safety of Bennie’s place, I throw my bag down and take a seat at the kitchen table. The yellow envelope waits for me.

With bitter and regretful tears in my eyes, I rip it open and turn it over, but nothing falls out. Digging into the envelope, I find a photo tucked inside. My body starts to shake as I see Dylan and me at Niagara Falls. The beautiful scenery in the back, our smiling faces up front. Only, he’s taken a pen and scratched my eyes out. Harsh indentations and furious lines of black mark out the top half of my face.

The chair I’m in falls over when I jump up. I throw the photo and envelope in the trash and retreat to my room. Leaning against the closed door, my eyes search the space just to make sure I’m alone. When my sights land on the Niagara Falls snow globe still sitting on my windowsill, I see red. I stomp over to the window and push it open. Picking up the snow globe, I shake it one last time, letting the good memories of our trip try to surface. But they don’t. I pull my arm back and let the souvenir fly. In the darkness, I don’t see where it lands, but am satisfied by the sound of breaking glass.