She’s grabbing at her throat like she can’t breathe. Neck straining.

“Ivaiah.”

She darts her wide, panicked gaze to Reggie.

He jerks his head. “Go. Get outta here.”

I frown. Ivy’s face breaks into a sob.

Reggie approaches her and says something in her ear. I can make out her lips as she stumbles her way through a couple of “I’m sorrys.”

Distantly, I notice the man and woman slink back inside the bar.

“I’m gonna get Ivy to her car,” Reggie says, facing us once more, with an arm around Ivy’s back. “You two will come with me.”

I nod. Looking at Ivy, I say, “He’ll be okay. I’ve got him.”

Her jaw quivers. “I’m sorry.”

My frown deepens.

Behind me, Waylon sleepily murmurs her name. I feel his arm move. As if he’s reaching for her. It’s fucking devastating.

Ivy screws her eyes shut and lets Reggie guide her around the building.

Once they’re out of sight, and it’s just Waylon and me out here, I finally let out what feels the first breath I’ve fucking taken in hours.

Waylon sniffs.

I turn and my stomach drops.

His hands are pressed over his face and it looks like he’s trying to rock himself, but he’s unsteady, so he kind of just twitches instead. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear him from under his palms.

“Way?”

A sob punches out of him and he curls over himself.

“Hey,” I say, reaching for him.

My fingers brush his wrist as he rears back like I shocked him. “Don’t!”

My hand hovers over him. “It’s just me. You’re safe.”

He drags his knuckles roughly down his cheeks that are now streaked with tears. “J-just go. Please.”

I swallow hard. “Way—”

“Stop fucking saying my name!” he shouts, the words slurring together. He pushes himself up then, stumbling forward. I try to reach for him, but he shoves me away.

“Waylon, you’re gonna get hurt—”

“What’s going on?” Reggie asks, rounding the corner, panting like he ran to get back to us.

As if Waylon’s finally registering who else came with me, he whips around. Barely catching himself from falling flat on his ass.

Reggie senses the shift immediately and slowly holds up his hands. “Way—”

“Fuck you!”

I ping-pong my gaze between them, unsure how to go about this. We can’t leave him here, but it’s clear as fucking day he’s going to fight us. We should have just carried his ass out when he was still too dazed to know what was going on.

“I hate you!” he screams. “Both of you. Just go away.” He hiccups. “I d-don’t want you here. You’re d-dead to me.”

I try not to flinch. I really, really do. I know this isn’t him—not really—but it still stings.