“Isn’t that just running from the problem, though?” Winston asks. “Your life won’t suddenly change if you don’t work.”
“I’ll be moving, too,” I say. “Gonna find some land, just spend the next few years doing nothing. Buy a few horses, maybe sell some, too. It’s what I always planned on doing, anyway. Why not do it now?”
There are probably a number of good points to be made about why this is a mistake. I’ll be bored, especially afterbeing so busy for so long, and I’ll miss the place I grew up in, raised my daughter in.
But even if I hadn’t made the decision already, Monty being here would’ve pushed me to it. I envy her ability to hop from place to place, to be free, not attached to anything or anyone.
I want that. Maybe I even need it.
“Well, you better still visit,” Alicia says. “And if the new chief sucks, I’m blaming you.”
I smile, and we resume our game.
Hours pass and I find myself laughing, sharing old stories, correcting Winston when he exaggerates them. Soon, we switch to whiskey, and I sink more than I have in a long time.
It’s fun. Really fun. I don’t feel like a chief, and the burden of the last few years, even the last few days, is lifted so abruptly that it feels like surfacing after almost drowning.
If this is what retirement is going to feel like, then it’s long overdue.
It turns out Monty gave everyone a ride, knowing we’d all be drinking, so we end the night by calling a taxi, and I’m almost seeing double by the time everyone is gone.
Slumping onto the couch, I groan and rub my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I drank this much, and I’m definitely going to feel it in the morning. Not the ideal way to spend Christmas Day, especially given that I’m fairly sure I promised Monty I’d cook, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.
My eyes drift closed, the twinkling Christmas lights fading from view.
I dream of Ella as a little girl. She’s sitting in a field, and it’s snowing, but she’s in a summer dress. I try tocall out to her, to tell her it’s too cold, she needs a jacket, but when she turns, she’s a grown woman.
“I’m warm enough, Daddy,” she says as Gable wraps his arms around her.
I wake with a start, Monty’s hand on my cheek. My head is already throbbing, and my throat is dryer than the carpet.
Fuck, why did I drink so much?
“Why are you down here?” Monty whispers. “Come to bed.” She takes my hand and lugs me to my feet. Without argument, I follow her upstairs and collapse onto the bed, groaning as she tugs off my boots.
“Don’t do that,” I mumble into the pillow.
“You’ll be uncomfortable,” she says, tossing them aside. The bed dips slightly as she sits beside me, covering me with a blanket.
“You’re dangerous,” I say, sighing deeply. “But so pretty.”
I think she chuckles, then kisses me on the cheek, and leaves.
Chapter 7
Guy
Fingers stroke through my hair, sending pleasant shivers down my spine. I lean into the touch, moaning softly, hoping it never stops. My head is throbbing, my throat is dry, and I’m fucking starving.
What happened last night?
“Morning, Chief,” Monty whispers. I open my eyes and she places a mug of coffee on the nightstand. “Merry Christmas.”
I grab at the steaming liquid greedily, pushing myself up and glugging it down, ignoring the burning. It’s strong, and wet, and hopefully it’ll wake me the fuck up.
Monty sits on my other side. I must have pulled my T-shirt off in my sleep, so I’m in just my jeans, and I slump back into the pillows and groan.
“Drink too much?” she teases.
