“Whatever.” The woman staggered off.
“You can’t pay attention to that bullshit, Bay.”
“It’s not bullshit. She has every right to hate me.”
“The hell she does. She doesn’t know you.”
Bailey just stared at Michelle. There were times she actually felt like Michelle did. She felt she deserved forgiveness; she felt she deserved a life—a real one that didn’t leave her incessantly followed around by ghosts. There were those times, but they were few and far between. Most of the time, Bailey felt like she deserved everything she got, and she was going to deal with it until the day she died because she’d earned this. That was her most-of-the-time perspective, and it really didn’t matter that her only remaining friend in the world didn’t agree.
When the group the drunk girl had returned to started eyeing her venomously, it didn’t take long for Michelle to return the glare with her own dose of lethal eye venom. It also didn’t take long for Bailey to excuse herself from the table to escape the attention.
“I’ll be fine, Michelle. I just need some air.” She didn’t give Michelle any time to respond before she stood and walked to the back door that led onto a wooden deck that wrapped from the back of the bar around the side. Like most other places in the Ozarks, the trees grew right up to the railing surrounding the deck, and Bailey stood alone in the near-darkness listening to the sounds of the woods around her. She hated this place—almost as much as she loved it.
Her mother really was the only reason she was here anymore. Her father had passed away nearly two years before while Bailey was sitting in a prison cell. Her mother dealt with the loss on her own because her daughter had been too stupid to keep her ass out of trouble. And now her mother was alone, trying to eke out a living in a town that had taken its toll on her almost as much as it did on Bailey. Her father had died of lung cancer after years of secretly smoking outside back doors and side doors of whatever non-smoking establishment he happened to be at. Nobody smoked anymore; it could kill ya, didn’t ya know? But that was Bailey’s fault too.
Her father had all but conquered that addiction years ago when Bailey was still in high school. That was until his daughter wound up in jail. Funny how such things tended to shit on everyone around you, including your own father, who ended up smoking himself into an appointment with death far sooner than what he deserved.
“You know you were supposed to have those sutures removed after seven days, right? Or maybe you didn’t know that, seein’s how you chickened out and ran.” His voice broke her concentration, and she jumped as she wheeled toward him. He was standing behind her, a couple feet away. His expression was impassive and sent a chill up her spine. There was a time he was incapable of being so impassive with her.
“I just hadn’t gotten around to. . .”
“It’s fine by me, of course, if you want them growing into your skin. It’ll make removing them all the more fun for you.” His eyes had the glint of hatred, and his smirk was mean. All she could do was swallow over the lump in her throat and try to hold his gaze.
“I should find Michelle. She’s probably worried.” She walked to the back door, listening as his steps followed her. When they entered into the crowded backroom, every eye in the room snapped to them. They walked through the crowd, his body following closely behind her own as the room stared in absolute shock at the two of them together. Finding her table empty, Bailey started scanning the room desperately as Darren chuckled behind her.
“Seems Michelle isn’t that worried about you.” He was leaning down to her ear from behind her body as her eyes found Michelle sitting at the bar with a drink in her hand talking to some guy. “Doesn’t she know how much trouble you can get into on your own?” His hand had found her waist, gripping her tightly as his lips remained at her ear. It was the type of touch that would have set her body on fire once upon a time, but now . . . now it was a taunt. He was trying to make her uncomfortable, and he was succeeding.
She pulled away, stalking to the bar. “Michelle, I think I should go.” She didn’t even wait for Michelle to notice her before she started talking.
“Bay! Sorry. I needed a drink, and they’re so damn busy I had to. . .” Her words trailed off quickly as she took in Darren, who was still shadowing her every move. “Oh! Dare. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Michelle. I’m going to take Bailey home.” Michelle’s jaw hit the floor at the same time as Bailey sucked in a shocked breath of air.
“No!” She turned to him quickly as his gaze shifted from Michelle to her.
“Yeah, maybe not a great idea.” Not even Michelle appreciated his offer.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt her. I’m just going to take her to the hospital to remove her sutures. I’ll see she gets home safely.” His eyes were staring at Bailey deadpan. He’d somehow mastered the art of impassivity since six years ago, and he was giving her nothing at all to gauge what he was saying. She wasn’t stupid enough to think this man wanted to help her. “And seeing you’re busy with your drink, and about every last person here hates Bailey, you should probably just thank me and let me get on with it.”
“I don’t need a ride, Darren.”
Michelle’s eyes moved back and forth between them as they stared at one another. Bailey was confused—more than confused. She didn’t trust him. She had once, and he’d deserved that trust.
“Come on, Bay. I would never hurt you.” And then leaning to her ear, he whispered. “Not physically anyway.” He righted himself, still piercing her with his cool gaze that left her wanting to shrink away from him. It also left her wanting to touch him, remind him of who she was, remind him that he’d been her friend once. She was mesmerized by just how familiar he was to her, and yet, just how much of a stranger he was now. She wanted the old Darren back so much it felt like a hand in her guts twisting her insides slowly as she watched him. “You know you want to.” His voice was nearly seductive, and Michelle’s eyes were still dancing about between them.
“Okay.” She was whispering when she said it, and she wasn’t even sure why she’d said it. Her cheeks started burning. She had an obvious blush—always had, and she knew damn well he could see it. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and just when she thought he might say something, Michelle interrupted them.
“You’re sure, Bailey?”
She nodded, still unable to look away from him.
“I said she’ll be fine, Michelle. You know me better than to think I would do anything to her.”
“I also know you well enough to know you’re acting weird as hell.”
He finally broke eye contact with her as his attention snapped to Michelle with an amused laugh. “Fine. I’m acting weird. Aren’t I allowed? I am being forced to deal with her again after all.” He nodded toward Bailey.
“It’s fine, Michelle. I’ll call you later.” She snatched up her small clutch that Michelle had brought with her to the bar, and then she stood awkwardly by as Michelle watched her. Michelle didn’t have a clue why Bailey was agreeing to go anywhere with him. She wasn’t sure she quite understood either. He’d asked. That was her rationale. He’d asked, and she wanted to see what would happen. If she didn’t go, she’d wonder. And truth be told, she knew she was safe with him—at least physically. He might torment her emotionally, and he was likely implying he would, or at least that he could, but he’d be hard-pressed to keep up with her own self-torture. She was the queen bee at emotionally putting herself through the ringer. Hell, going with him might just be another brand of self-destructive torture. Only time would tell.