Page 27 of Misery and Ecstasy

Before she can ask, I pick up the bowl and pass it in the opposite direction to Saxon instead.

“Nah, mate.” He holds his hand up, declining the side dish. “I’m not gettin’ inna middle-a dis ding-dong.”

It’s taken me years to understand what the fuck Saxon says when he speaks. His accent gets worse based on a couple factors: How much he’s had to drink and how many goals the Hammers—his favorite football club—are losing by.

I’m pretty sure ding-dong means argument.

“Draven.” I can hear the exasperation in Delilah’s voice. “Please.”

I concede and shake my head. “You’re being ridiculous, Royce.” My eyes dart to him as I hand the bowl over.

He takes the potatoes from me then slams the dish down onto the table.

“I’mbeing ridiculous?I’mbeing ridiculous.” The laughter he forces from his mouth is unsettling. He reminds me of the Joker fromBatman. “I’m sorry… AmIthe one who nearly killed myself?”

He looks around the table at everyone else. Each person’s expression displays a varied degree of awkwardness.

For a split second, I want to drop my head and cower. But instead, it’s like a fire ignites inside of me. Before I can stop myself, I explode. Anger flows out of me and straight at Royce.

“I know I fucked up,all right?”

Royce closes his mouth and focuses his attention back on me.

“I don’t needyouor anyone else reminding me of that.”

Including the woman I can’t stop thinking about.

Before anyone breaks the silence that has settled in the room, I scoot backward, the wooden chair legs groaning against the floor beneath it.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.”

“Draven, wait.” I hear Delilah call out after me, but I don’t stop. I walk straight to the front door of the clubhouse and right outside. I don’t even pause until I get to my black Trans-Am.

“Hey!”Royce calls out to me.

I clench my hand around the handle, but I don’t open my door. Looking down, I steel my spine before turning around to face him.

“What the fuck do you want, Royce?”

“I want to beat the hell out of you for that stunt you pulled the other night.”

“Well, get down here, then, and do it.” I hold my hand out and wave him on.

The rest of the club, as well as Delilah and Harleigh, filter outside to see what’s happening as Royce bounds down the clubhouse’s front steps after me. Atticus reels forward and grabs Royce’s arm, but he pulls free of his grip with almost no effort at all.

Royce’s eyes are wild, filled with uncontrolled rage. At first, I think he’s going to lunge at me, and for a second, I welcome it. Anything to punish me further for my behavior. But the harsh lines of his face soften the closer he gets to me. As though he can see through me and can identify the misery and self-loathing in my soul.

“What?” My question leaves me in an anguish-filled sigh.

“I’m not sorry for being angry with you. I was pissed, thinking you didn’t care about what happened. That you were mad you didn’t die.”

“Iwasangry … at first. Then I sobered up injailfor the night and realized how fucking stupid I was being.”

Royce nods. We stand tense before one another. We don’t speak, yet we say a thousand things we couldn’t bring ourselves to say over the past two weeks. It’s Royce who finally breaks the silence.

“I want my fucking friend back, Mac. The guy who I have depended on as my VP and right-hand man for however many years it’s been. The one who tells me when I’m being a dumb fuck. The one the other guys look up to.” The desperation in his voice nearly makes my knees hit the ground beneath me. “Call me selfish for not giving you the time and space you need to heal or whatever you want to call me, but I can’t stand seeing you like this. Shit, had the sheriff not suggested therapy,Imight have. Anything to see to it you get back to where you were before…”

Your mom died.

---