Page 206 of What We Bury

“Lower your voice,” the visor woman hisses without looking at him.

Milo mutters something about her being lucky he only kills criminals, but if she’s going to keep spoiling his fun he might rethink his morals.

Luckily, I’m the only one close enough to hear it.

Knox stares down the length of the rink like he can bully geometry into obedience. “It curved.”

“Yes,” Eli says from the far end, patient in that strained, overcareful way. “That’s the point.”

Knox nods once, as if he’s making a mental note.

Eli’s a disaster.

For a man who’s normally so planned and careful, he overshoots the jack by ten feet, twice. On the third, he fires one flat and hard down the rink like he’s trying to hurt it. The bowl scatters the head, sends the little white jack skittering into the trench, and earns a tut from the visor woman that could curdle milk.

“You good, boss man?” Milo asks, after that one.

“Fine,” he grunts.

“You bowled like you’re trying to crack the jack in two.”

“I’mfine, Milo.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool. Just checking. Just doing welfare. Just being a concerned member of team Balls of Fury.”

Eli sits, jaw tight. Milo sits beside him, says something low. Eli closes his eyes. Milo squeezes his shoulder and gets up to bowl, and Eli stays put, head down.

“Beer run,” I tell him. “Come with.”

He looks at me.

“Now, Eli. That wasn’t a suggestion.”

He gets up with a huff and follows me.

The clubhouse bar is older than sin and the speaker system crackles with Pat Benatar. I order a round of beers and carry them to the end of the bar, where the others can see us but the room can’t hear us. Then I hand Eli his and wait.

He drinks, watching me over the glass.

“What did you do to her last night?” I ask, breaking the silence.

He looks down, swiping his thumb through the condensation. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said, Eli. She was hurt. You did it. And unless you want me for an enemy, I suggest you start explaining. Our girl has been through enough hurt to last a lifetime. Fucked if I’m letting you add to it.”

He takes a long drink and sets the glass on the coaster.

“I simply told her the truth,” he says. “And then I left.”

I let the silence sprawl. Let him think about whether I’m going to let it rest. I watch him dredge up the muscle for another swallow, the way the beer goes down like ball bearings.

“You finished it? Or are you waiting for her to fight for you?”

He shakes his head. “Stop playing offense, Holden. I’m not the villain here.”

“No, you’re just the one who walks when she finally stops running—leaving the mess to the rest of us.”

He flexes his jaw. “I told her what she needed to hear,” he says, finally. “She’ll hate me for it, but at least she’ll be safe.”