Dray by Tess Oliver

then leaving because I can’t fucking take that, Cass. I can’t fucking take it.”
    A heavy sick feeling pressed against my chest as he stared at me across the room. I pulled off his t-shirt. Then I picked up my dress and pulled it over my head. The fabric felt as cold and clammy as my heart. My boots were soaked but I slid them on. Dray sat as still and grim as a statue in a park as he watched me dress. I was sobbing by the time I reached the cabin door, but he made no move to stop me. His weak plea to have me stay was almost worse than no plea at all. The word regrets played over and over again in my head as I ran awkwardly down the dock in wet boots. I needed to stop fooling myself and get on with my life.

Chapter 10
    Dray
    The wraps I had for fighting had a convenient thumb loop that made the job easy. Wrapping your own hand tightly without the loop was impossible, and after the third try I balled up the long bandage and tossed it onto the deck chair.
    The tide was calm and the breeze was so light it barely had the strength to move the flag standing at the end of the pier. I’d woken up the day after Cassie left feeling as if someone had filled my body with sand. I’d let her walk away. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. She had wanted me to beg. The irony of that was that inside my head, inside my chest I was begging. I just didn’t want to be the one to stop her from going. I knew the decision would come with layers of regret on her part, and I would have to live with myself knowing that I’d caused it. We’d spent a short, passionate afternoon in each other’s arms, and everything about it had seemed the way it should be. But it had been so fleeting and unexpected, I had a hard time convincing myself it had actually happened.
    The distinctive rumble of Clutch’s Chevelle rolled up from the marina parking lot. Even though street fairs weren’t really my thing, I was looking forward to spending time with my friends. Loneliness had a tendency to seep deep into my bones when I spent too much time thinking about things. I’d spent two endless days with my mom helping her pack up stuff she wanted to ship back to Florida. Each day was a long gripe session about her life with Dad as if I hadn’t actually been there to experience every fucked up minute. After the second day of lifting boxes and moving shit, my hand hurt worse than ever, and it occurred to me that while everyone else had noticed my broken hand, my mom had never noticed it or if she had she’d been too busy feeling sorry for herself to say anything.
    Taylor and Scotlyn reached the boat first. Taylor had her thick copper hair braided down her back and Scotlyn’s long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail. They could light up any dreary morning.
    “The guys will be here in a second.” Taylor hopped on deck. “Clutch was showing Nix some new silver thingamajiggy he added to the engine.”
    “Clutch does love his thingamajiggies.” I walked over and picked up the bandage from my chair. “Nurse Scottie, do you think you could wrap my hand?”
    Scotlyn looked down at my hand and scrunched up her tiny nose. “It looks worse than ever, Dray. What happened?”
    “Just a little more bruising, is all. I knocked it—” I paused. “I just haven’t been taking good care of it. But I’ll start, I promise.”
    Scotlyn nodded and the expression on her face assured me she’d talked to Cassie. “How’s your head?” she asked quietly.
    “The same as always, like a bowl of mashed potatoes.”
    Nix arrived at the Lucy and glanced up the dock toward Clutch. “Watch out for—”
    His warning was interrupted by a snarling yapping sound. Just like Bill at the shipyard, the near death experience had done nothing for the dog’s annoying personality. Clutch nearly fell over the side of the dock in his attempt to avoid the little ball of fury. “Sonavabitch,” he grumbled as he took three long strides and reached the Lucy.
    Scotlyn and Taylor fell