22
Chloe the Cougar Does Not Wear Ribbons
“Hollie! Hollie! Where the hell are you?”
I hear him, but I don’t turn back. I don’t call out to him, even though I’ve tripped and may have just gone all the way with the ankle because it is screaming profanities at my brain and the boot is tightening to the point that it might have to be cut from my body. Oh, and I did in fact throw up the beer.
First sign of a broken bone.
“Goddammit, Hollie, you’re not safe out here. Please … come back. It’s not what you think.”
“If it’s not what I think, then what the hell is it, Ryan?”
“Say something else—I’ll follow your voice. Are you okay?”
“Don’t come any closer. I want to go back. I want to go home,” I say, no longer able to keep the tears from cascading down my face and strangling my voice.
“Hol
