I hated that I knew exactly what he meant—what he was feeling. How I used to be the same way. It never mattered what bottle was in my hand, only that therewasone. The shame I’d felt earlier at Bennett’s started creeping back in.
Would that feeling ever go away?
“My ex is gonna be pissed at me for missing another day with our daughter, but she’ll be even more pissed if I show up drunk, so damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”
Harold gave him a sideways glance as he continued wiping down glasses behind the bar.
“Hit me with another one, Harold,” the guy said, sliding the empty glass towards him. Harold filled the glass up again. Heavy pour just like the first time. Danny drank it down in one gulp again. He puckered his lips this time.
“Damn, sometimes that shit burns,” he said, slamming the glass back on the counter.
The thought of liquor leaving a trail of fire down my throat took me back to the night I thought I lost Cassie––thought I had gotten her killed.
I cried––sobbed––all night thinking I hadn’t gotten us out in time. That the smoke inhalation would be too much for her lungs. I felt like the shittiest person on the planet that night. What kind of man was I if I couldn’t even save the women I loved because I worried about getting my hands on a bottle of liquor more than I worried about life itself?
All the family functions I had passed up, invites I had turned down from friends because what they wanted to do didn’t include alcohol and Jace McKinley without alcohol was a nobody––a loser.
I wondered how many times I had shown up to this very bar, looking exactly like the guy sitting next to me––exhausted, hopeless, sad. I wondered how many times Harold had to listen to me sulk about life knowing I was my own worst enemy. Too nice to tell me to get my shit together.
“You gonna drink that?” Danny asked, glancing at the untouched glass still in my hand.
Harold poured him another while I just sat there, lost in thought.
My phone buzzed in my pocket—another text about what went down earlier. Another link to the video. Another stab to my heart.
The heart I had worked so hard at keeping sober the last two years. The heart I had somehow managed to put back together because I finally got the chance to fall in love with the one and only Cassie Blake.
Now everything was going up in flames because everyone sat behind their keyboards judging me from afar. My hard work, my relationship with Cassie, my sobriety––all of it on the verge of slipping out of my hands any second.
Danny lifted his fresh glass in the air. “Cheers?”
I raised mine, clinking it against his.
“Cheers.”
It was almost midnight by the time I pulled back into the driveway of my cabin. All the lights in the cabin were off except for the porch light. I opened the front door quietly, almost tripping over the welcome mat.
I tiptoed inside, trying not to wake Cassie—if she was even still here. For all I knew, she’d gone back to her house, pissed off at me.
I crept past the living room and down the hall. No sign of her.
Was she really gone?
Kicking off my boots, I shrugged out of my jacket and let it fall to the floor. I needed a shower. I needed sleep. I needed Cassie.
I continued to my bedroom, peeling off another layer of clothes. As I flung my shirt to the floor, scarlet red caught my attention. Cassie’s hair was sticking out from underneath the top of the sheets.
She didn’t leave. She was here asleep, in my bed––ourbed.
“Cassie, baby, I’m home,” I said, trying to wake her up gently. Her eyes fluttered open softly. When she realized it was me, she shot upright.
“Jace, why do you smell like the inside of the Twisted Spur?” she asked, her voice tight, fear flickering in her eyes.
I sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched—ready to tell her the truth. There was no backing out now.
Chapter 38 – Cassie
“After I left here, I didn’t know where to go,” Jace said quietly. “My phone kept lighting up––message after message about what happened at Bennett’s. Everyone knew my secret, and the things people were saying online… it was too much. I couldn’t breathe.”
