Page 102 of Trusting You
Cool air washes over my face. I’ve broken through the barrier, feet scraping across the sidewalk, then the road. Gulping, gasping, I follow the crowd into the street, but there’s more room here. People are scattering, giving much-needed space, and I spin in my small circle of emptiness, back to the bar.
“Locke,” I say. “Locke!”
Nothing but the wash of unintelligible shouts answer me.
“Locke!” I scream again.
The mass exodus from the bar has turned into a stream, then a trickle. I don’t see him. I can’t find Asher or Ben, either.
“LOCKE!”
My breaths go back to scattered. Other groups find their friends and embrace, tears streaming, fingers tangling in hair.
“LOCKE!” My voice is hoarse.
Hands to my temples, I turn all the way around, scanning, worrying, mouthing words I don’t ascribe any meaning to. He has to be okay. For so many reasons, he has to come out of this unharmed.
“No…” I cry and almost buckle to my knees. “Where are you? Where the fuck are you?”
“Hey…hey!”
Before I register who the voice belongs to, arms encircle me, and I smell him before I name him.
“Oh. Oh, God. Locke.”
My arms fly around his neck, and I bury my face in the scent of all his goodness, his aliveness, something I will never, ever, forget.
“Are you okay? Hurt?” He tries to untangle my arms to assess, but I won’t let him.
“Fine. I’m okay,” I say into the heat of his skin. “You are? You’re good?”
I feel his palms on my back, holding me steady. “I’m good.”
“Jesus,” I hear beside us, and it sounds like Asher.
“Fucking H. Christ,” Ben finishes for him.
“The fuck was that?” Asher says. “Everyone okay?”
“Think so,” Locke says.
I release him, but hold a hand to his jaw, his stubble tickling my palms. He says to me, “I was so goddamned scared for you. Don’t ever let me go again.”
“I had to,” I say. “Your knee—”
“Fuck my knee. I would’ve done anything—anything—to keep you safe,” he practically snaps.
“Well, the same goes to you, asshole,” I say, anger pooling over any remaining fear. “Which is why I pushed you away.”
“That kind of snap decision in a situation like that is the most idiotic—” he begins.
“Okay, you two. Simmer down,” Ben says, palm out. He’s using his other hand to thumb his phone. “Let’s see if Number Four is all right.”
Locke won’t look away from me, and that’s just as well because I can stare him down just fine.
“We got a yes!” Ben says. “East is A-OK.”
“You sure about that?” Asher asks. “‘Cause that kinda shit will have him holing up for a month.”