Page 35 of Hounded

As I reached for the dashboard dial, Indy piped up. “Why didn’t you visit?”

There was no missing the pain in his voice.

I should have gone by. It was selfish to avoid him and indulge my hurt feelings. But I was protecting him, too,because I had questions he couldn’t answer and anger I couldn’t trust not to leak out like poison and contaminate everything.

“I don’t know,” I lied.

Indy swiveled to stare out his window as we drove along. The silence grew weighty, and I cranked the radio on. The chorus of a Journey song thrummed through the car’s speakers.

Our view changed from brownstones and busy sidewalks to greener stretches of the suburbs. The classic rock station was on a marathon, so we listened to “Don’t Stop Believin,’” “Wheel in the Sky,” and “Faithfully” before Indy spoke again.

“Sully seems nice.”

I adjusted my grip on the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “She is.”

His reflection was pensive as he added, “You seem nice, too.”

We turned into the lot of Trailer Trove to find Indy’s parking spot vacant and waiting. I steered into it and brought the car to a stop, then killed the engine while Indy reached into the backseat to collect his bagged items.

After coming around and opening his door, I motioned toward the plastic bags looped around his wrist.

“Need help with those?”

He looked down with a lopsided smile. “All three of them?”

I shrugged.

“I think I’ve got it.” He held out a hand for his keys.

Taking them, he stepped out of the vehicle, then stood close enough that I could have hugged him. I wanted to.

“I’m sorry if I ever… did anything to you.” He met my eyes. “We talked about that in therapy. Addicts tend to hurt the people they’re close to. So, if I hurt you—”

“You didn’t.” I realized immediately how much of a lie that was.

He held my gaze a moment longer, then bobbed his head. “Well, good.”

When he stepped back, I pushed the car door closed. A cool breeze whipped between us, causing my hair to flutter. Indy’s head hung low while he nudged a pile of gravel with his boot.

The quiet grew until Indy cleared his throat and looked up. His expression was restored to its usual cheer. “I’m gonna get started on this.” He raised his armload of bags to indicate the hair dye inside. “Maybe you could show me your place next time. Lemme get a nice, long look at your bed.”

I rolled my eyes, and he laughed before heading up the sidewalk toward where the Airstream shone silver in the daylight. Eventually, I would show and tell him everything. But, for now, it was more important to keep him safe than informed. Between Sully’s ward and my constant vigil, it would have to be enough.

13

Loren

Indy didn’t see muchof me the next couple of days, but I kept a close eye on him. His hair was shockingly teal, and he looked good. Healthy. Clean. He sent text messages every so often, asking if I knew where things were in the trailer and when his lot rent was due, but our conversations were succinct and superficial.

Sully came by as promised and delivered a beaded bracelet made with every color of the rainbow. I watched from the parking lot and talked with her a bit afterward, but I knew it worked because the second Indy slid the jewelry around his wrist, every hint of his honey-sweet scent left the air. The vacancy stirred immediate panic in me. It reminded me of the days and weeks I’d lived here alone, sensing Indy’s absence more keenly than I ever wanted to.

I didn’t sleep that night. I stared at the trailer and promised myself that my phoenix was still alive inside. Still breathing. Still with me.

By the end of the week, I had convinced myself that Whitney must have grown bored following up on me, ormaybe he had better things to do. But I couldn’t avoid him or Hell forever.

I made the slow climb to the trailer park bathhouse, trudged past occupied toilet stalls, into an open shower. I pulled the scummy shower curtain closed behind me before I drew a portal on the wall and ventured into the arid depths of Hell.

Powdery dirt underfoot and a high, bright ceiling gave me a keen sense of the space in which I landed. The walls stretched long and wide, doubling the size of the grand ballroom in a sweeping oval shape flanked by staggered rows of bench seating. In the middle, a dusty arena brought to mind ancient combat pits where gladiators battled wild beasts in barbaric fights to the death.

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