I turn to see Shay Houlighan grinning at me. He’s holding a beer, his hat pushed back on his head.
“Didn’t think you’d show your face,” Shay shouts over the music.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask, taking a sip of the bourbon. It burns good.
“Because the whole world is falling apart!” Eli Warren appears on my other side, sliding into the booth next to us. Ford Whitehorse follows, carrying a tray of shots.
“The circuit is on life support,” Ford says, sliding a shot glass toward me. “Jack Dalton is radioactive. And here we are, partying like it’s 1999.”
“We’re partying because we have nothing else to do,” I say, clinking the shot glass against Ford’s. “And because it’s for a good cause.”
“Saramaria Cruz,” Shay says, nodding toward the crowd. “The Ice Queen herself. I heard she’s the one putting this together.”
“She is,” I say. I scan the room, looking for her.
I find her near the stage. She’s standing with Pearl and Dot, laughing at something Pearl is saying. She isn’t wearing a suit. She’s wearing jeans that look like they were painted on and a blue shirt that makes her eyes pop. Her hair is down, wild and curly, framing her face in a halo of frizz.
She looks... different.
She looks happy. Actually, genuinely happy. Her head is thrown back, her laugh ringing out clear and bright over thenoise of the bar. She isn’t thinking about fines or evictions or betrayals. She’s just living in the moment.
It makes my chest ache.
I’m going to miss this.
The thought hits me out of nowhere. I’ve only known her for a few weeks. I should be annoyed by her. I should be plotting how to get her to sell so I can keep my retreat. But looking at her now, all I can think about is how much it would suck to never see this again.
“You staring at the lawyer?” Eli asks, following my gaze.
“Maybe,” I mutter.
“Careful, Wilder,” Shay warns. “She’s the one who tried to blind you with pepper spray.”
“She has spirit,” I say.
“She’s trouble,” Ford says, downing his shot. “All the pretty ones are.”
I finish my drink. The alcohol warms my blood, but it’s not enough to drown out the restlessness. The feeling that I’m on the edge of a cliff, and the wind is picking up.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I groan when I see the name on the screen.Gary.
I’ve been ignoring his calls for two days. I know what he wants. He wants a decision. He wants to know if I’m staying or if I’m running.
“I gotta take this,” I tell the guys.
“I’ll save you a seat, cowboy,” Shay says.
I slip out the side door, stepping into the cool night air.
The music is muffled out here, a dull thrumming beat. The parking lot is full, trucks and cars parked haphazardly in the mud. I lean against the rough siding of the building and hit answer.
“Knox,” Gary says. He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Where are you?”
“At the fundraiser,” I say. “The hoedown.”
“Right. The hoedown.” He sounds tired. “I heard it’s a success.”
