“Okay, Kennedy. It’s okay,” he breathes a sigh that sounds like relief, “just tell me where you are.”
“I …” I start, but can’t say the words. Instead, I hand the phone to Jonah.
“Sir? Yes, this is Jonah. Right. I’m sorry. Um … The Pink Pony,” poor Jonah says with a record amount of shame. “Yeah … that’s the place.”
They say more words, but I can’t hear them. I’m crying so hard into my bent knees that I can’t hear, see, or feel much else other than abject sadness. Suicide isn’t always a physical act, and leaving Matt in those walls feels like watching him pull the trigger with a twelve-inch thick glass wall between us. I didn’t see it coming. I couldn’t see the spiral. It was too steep, too fast. Too real.
“Sweetie?” A soft hand perches on my shoulder. Looking up, I find a middle-aged woman with thick blue eye shadow crouching next to me. “Are you okay?” She eyes Jonah suspiciously before quickly returning her attention to me.
Right. Because I’m a young female crying in front of a strip club with a broad-shouldered dude next to me.
“Oh,” I sniff, forcing myself to stand, “I’m fine. This is my boyfriend,” I lie again, because that’s what you do in and around these places.
She smiles. “Don’t beat yourself up, honey. Men are pigs. Just bring him home and remind him why he doesn’t need a place like this.” She gives me a wink and slides in a side door labeled Employees Only.
Jonah returns my phone. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“They?”
He nods. “Roland and Mr. Wells.”
Goose bumps cover my neck and shoulders. “Well, there goes any hope we could keep this from Matt’s parents.”
“Was that really your plan? To keep this from them.”
I shrug. “I don’t … know.”
“No or know.”
I shrug again, more tears spilling down my face. “I just want to go home, Jonah.”
With a sigh Jonah steps forward. “Sorry,” he whispers, pulling me into a hug. “Sorry,” he says again, resting his chin on the top of my head.
I stay in the hug and think about what I just said. I didn’t mean Connecticut when I said “home,” and I didn’t mean Matt’s parents’ guesthouse.
“Kennedy. Jonah.” Roland’s voice lifts my eyes to the sight of him and Buck exiting a small SUV and briskly walking toward us. It seems like we just got off the phone with them, but my perception of time, or anything real, is shot.
Jonah drops his arms from me and I cross the sidewalk to meet Roland. “Thank you for coming,” I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“I’m so glad you called me,” he whispers, sounding like a thirsty man pouring a glass of water. He takes a step back and holds my face in his hands, his thumbs pushing tears out of the way. “Are you okay?” His eyes search over me like I’m a war victim.
Not that kind of war.
I nod, and when Roland drops his hands I look at Buck. “I’m sorry. He’s inside and we tried to get him out, but he’s … I think on top of everything else, he’s drunk.”
A single tear rolls down Buck’s war-torn cheek. He nods with a clenched jaw. “Thank you for calling.”
“I’m sorry we stole your car,” I say to Roland.
“Yeah, Sir,” Jonah echoes. “I’m really sorry.”
“No worries. No worries,” Roland repeats, placing hands on our shoulders. “You did the right thing. Why don’t you go wait in my car,” he says without it being a real question.
Jonah and I look to each other and do as told, sliding into the backseat of the Prius.
“Who’s going to drive that car home?” Jonah asks, reminding me that Matt took his dad’s car and Roland and Buck showed up in what I assume is Matt’s mom’s car.
I shrug. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who pick their cars up in the morning from a place like this. Or they’ll have one of us drive. Jonah,” I quickly change the subject, “Matt’s going to be so mad.”
He nods. “Eventually he’ll realize this was for his own good.”
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” I say absentmindedly.
“Kennedy,” Jonah replies, grabbing my hand. “I’m the one who asked you to come. I should be the one apologizing. I had no business bringing us here. Neither of us should be here.”
“Are you worried that Roland and Buck will tell your parents?”
He shrugs apathetically. “I expect them to. I’m not worried about consequences from them so much.”
“Just from CU?”
He nods.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m on borrowed time there as it is, but I don’t care. I just want Matt to be okay.”
“I know.” Jonah squeezes my hand and returns his to his lap. “It might take a while, but he will be.”
He’s never going to talk to me again.
Not only did I show up at the strip club, and not only did I call Roland into the mix, but Matt’s dad—his archenemy—has gone in after him. For that alone I know he’ll never forgive me.
“Did you see anything while we were in there?” I ask Jonah.
He shakes his head. “No, you?”