The next week, I heard from Mike that she was crying by the employees-only restroom with Mary, the craps dealer, bitching about how I’d fucked her and never called her again. I can imagine Mary’s red hair and scrawny finger lifted in front of her face.

“Forget that Slade,” she’d say. “These Navy men are all the same. You need a good Christian boy. My Sam’s just graduated from the top of his class at Cornell …”

A week after that, Rob overheard Sienna complaining about me at The Blue to Della, one of the waitresses.

“Slade is such an asshole!” she cried. “He thinks he’s too good for me? Screw him!”

My phone buzzes. I look down, glad for the interruption.

Vincent: Yo.

Slade: What up?

Vincent: Problem at the Mile. It’s waiting downstairs. He got caught cheating in poker three times over the last two weeks. Keeps comin’ in though. Man needs a lesson.

Slade: On way.

With a nod of thanks to Sienna for the light, I put my helmet on, shutting the clasp beneath my chin. Turning on my bike, I let out a long breath, letting her know in no uncertain terms that there’s no chance. Pulling out of the lot, dust kicks up behind me. When I ride, all of my senses are magnified. My emotions feel as though they double. I am alive.

Considering the places I’ve been and dangerous things I’ve done, I should be dead by now. Instead—and God only knows for what reason—I’m still here on Earth. For whatever reason, Lauren then enters my mind.

I hope she’s okay. Left without a goddamn word this morning. Probably woke up, found my ass on the floor, and thought I didn’t want to be near her. Girls always think everything’s about them. Then again, what else could I expect her to think? That I’m too fucked up in the head to sleep next to a woman? That I can’t be near her and sleep? Otherwise, she might wake up choked out or, even worse, dead. I shudder but do my best to keep myself in check. And that arm of hers. Damn, it looked rough. I’m sure she’ll be carrying some bruises on it for at least a week.

Her body was killer. Long, shapely legs that I already knew were soft and strong. Her tits in that tub … Christ! My self-control has clearly reached a new height. Watching that kind of beautiful throw herself at me and denying it? I mean, shit. They should saint me for keeping my dick in my pants. But she was so shattered after the shooting that only an asshole would have hit her up in that kind of mental state. I like all kinds of women, but they’ve gotta be of sound mind.

Lauren is a good girl. She’s happy and funny, and she isn’t the type who uses sex as a tool to forget. I like that about her. She’d be better off discussing her issues with friends or taking a vacation, sipping strawberry margaritas on a beach. Not having sex with a damaged guy like me. It’s not pity for myself; it’s just reality.