God, the look on his face when he’d almost told me whatever was going to be the end of that sentence.If I could give you the things you deserved, then you might actually…
Maybe it had been for the best that he hadn’t finished that thought. For both our sakes, maybe it had been better that we parted ways. Got a little distance from each other. A chance to think…
I don’t feel like I can think sometimes when he’s around. LikeI can breathe or focus on anything elsebuthim. And maybe it’s simple self-preservation, to have had himsoclose that I could’ve reached for him but didn’t.
Because I already knew what he wanted to say. I knew exactly.
Just like I knew, even as I was riding away, that I’d end up right back here.
“Where is he?”
Dolly’s eyebrows shot up the moment she saw me walk back in, but her expression had become more pleased the closer I’d gotten, then just downright amused by the time I asked.
“He’s not at the table. And neither are those men, so where is he?” I repeat, shouting now to be heard over the outrageous swells of noise. “I need you to—” I glance toward the stage when the line of dancers start to do some sort of two-step that involves an excessive amount of stomping, shortly followed by several rounds of cheering from the spectators when it’s announced that the next round of drinks are on the house.
Still nowhere in the crowd do I see him.
“Where?” I try again. “Where is he?”
“Why should I tell you?” she asks, managing to time her answer to a lull in the volume. “I advised you earlier not to leave him alone.”
My jaw clenches in frustration even though I know she’s got a point, my teeth grinding together. “Never mind. I’ll find him myself.”
I start to walk toward the stage, only to feel her hand on my arm pulling me back. “You ready for what you’ll find if I tell you?”
“I said I wanted to find him, didn’t I?”
“That’s not what I asked,” she clarifies. “Be sure, because if you aren’t—”
“Look, I appreciate the warning,” I snap, my patience officially at its end, “but you can either tell me where he is, or you canwatch me tear this place apart looking for him. You choose.”
She smirks. “Well, how about that? I’m starting to like you.”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m sorry that I—”
“He’s upstairs.” She pats a weathered hand against my chest. “When you see him, can you remind him to be careful with my rug? It’s new.”
With that, she turns and walks behind the bar, headed in the direction of the bartender who is now watching that same young woman from earlier up on stage. I almost feel bad for her that she has to miss some of the show when I hear yet another call for a house round go out, right as I’m taking a look around, making sure no one has their attention on me before I slip up the stairs. My gun is already drawn before I round the corner at the top, then do a quick count as well as a quick check on my weapon.
Six rooms are split between two sides of the long hallway before the one at the very end, and although I can’t hear anyone on the stairs after me, I keep my back angled to the wall so that I can monitor the space in front of me as well as what’s behind as I progress. My grip on the revolver in my hands stays tight, my fingers flexing around the handle as I stop outside the first room on my left then the next, listening to confirm each is empty before moving on.
Should the need arise.
That’s what he’d told me about these rooms earlier, when the ideas that flicked through my head were entirely different from whatever I’m about to walk in on here.
I don’t have to. I could go. I could turn around right now. I could run for it until I reached the train yard Dolly mentioned. Take the line back to Arizona and be there in a matter of days. I could leave. No matter our agreement. No matter if he…
There is nowe.
With my left hand, I reach into my pocket. Take out the watch and check the time. Either for my future alibi, or just so I knowthe precise moment I do something so colossally fucking stupid that it undoes everything I’ve been trying to accomplish these past few years.
As I reclose the lid, I remember something else—my father doing the same in the field before looking at me and telling me something that I don’t have time to listen to. Not now.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, stowing the watch back in my pocket when I hear a solid thud from inside the door at the very end, as well as what sounds like a muffled cry. “I know I’ve a long list of sins to atone for but…” I reach for the doorknob. “I think you’re going to have to add one more to it.”
“How many? Tell me.”
Tom shakes his head, saying something that sounds like,I don’t know, but it’s hard to make out on account of his own bandana smothering his mouth. Not the most appetizing, I’d guess, but I’m not terribly concerned about his comfort.