Page 47 of Drown Like Heaven
“Not with you here.” He shook his head.
“I’m boring.”
“Are you?” He took another bite of his cheeseburger and looked out the windshield at the other fast food places along this strip, all closed.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not.”
I looked back at my lap, feeling stupid for some reason.
Mason and I kept eating our food. My anxiety was getting worse the more minutes that passed, because it was going to be time to figure out how to get home soon. I still didn’t know what to do about that.
“Can I have your address?” Mason asked casually, balling up his wrapper and tossing it back into the bag.
“No.”
He stilled, looked at me. “Let me rephrase. Give me your address.”
“Mason, I don’t—”
“I’ll take you to my apartment, then. Would you feel safer if we did that?” His brows furrowed.
“Would Ibesafe if we did that?”
“No. You’re not safe either way, baby. Comes with the territory.”
I carefully dropped my empty food containers into the paper bag, then wrapped my shaky fingers around the gun on my lap. My fingertips pressed into the textured grip. It was a solid weight in my palm when I picked it up.
I wasn’t going toshoothim, I just had no idea what else to do.
He still didn’t seem nervous about it.
He was simply waiting for my response.
“Can I call a taxi from your phone?”
“Sure. But I’ll follow that fucking taxi if you do.”
“That’s great, Mason. You’re so fucking great,” I scoffed, a little more scared than I wanted him to know. I considered shooting the windshield. I considered screaming. I considered a lot of things, but I found I didn’t really want to do any of them.
All I wanted was him.
This.
This fucked-up, terrible situation. Secretly, I loved it.
I can be difficult, I can be messy, and there might be someone who still wants me like that. Maybe it’s him.
I gave him my address. He put it into a navigation app. We drove out of the parking lot, following the blue line that was going to reveal another secret of mine. It was disgusting how many I’d already given him.
My trailer was about twenty minutes from the restaurant we’d gotten our food at, and Mason let me have the windows down again. He actually rolled them both downforme, so I could get enough oxygen into my lungs, into my brain.
He didn’t have anything to say as we pulled into the lot and I directed him over to the metal box belonging to me.
“I’m not going to thank you,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt and laying Mason’s Glock flat on the dashboard. I pushed open the door. “So don’t hold your breath. See you never.” I slammed the door and darted around the front of the car, practically sprinting up the few steps to my porch, the wood creaking below my feet.
I heard the driver’s side door open and shut, quick footsteps coming up behind me.
