Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
“A lucky one? No bills. Sounds like heaven to me.”
I nod. “I want more.”
Now he laughs. “Don’t we all. My friend, is there someone I can call for you?”
“Do you know Evangeline?”
“Holcomb? Yeah, she’s legit. Is she your lawyer?”
No, but she might be if I might need one.
“Yeah.”
“All right. I’ll give her a shout. Hang tight.”
“Oh, I’m hanging.”
When he returns, he points to the door. I think I’m smiling. I know I’m definitely swaying. Eve walks in, heading right to me.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I tell her as she sits down. She’s the one I should’ve asked to marry me. I wanted to. But Bamford dangled the too-good-to-be-true job in my face, and I took it.
“Sprite?” the bartender asks her.
“Yes, please.”
“Hey,” I say when she looks at me.
“You’re a little drunk, Zane.”
I hold my fingers up and try to focus on them to show her how drunk I am. “This much.”
“More than enough.” She looks sad and tired. Probably tired of me being in her way. I don’t blame her.
“What are you doing out this late?”
“I got a call that my friend needed a ride.”
I look around the bar. “Who?”
She shakes her head and elbows me. “Finish up and I’ll take you home.”
“Home?” I lift the whiskey to my lips and sip. “I don’t have a home anymore.
“Everything will be fine in the morning.”
“I’m going to need an attorney. Can I hire you?”
“Sure, but what do you need my services for?”
“Unlawful firing. I’m going to lose my job if I don’t go back right now.” I slam my hand on the bar to emphasize my point.
“Lovely. Drink up and we’ll go.”
“Are you going to be okay with him, Evangeline?” the bartender asks.
“She can handle me. Can’t you, Eve?” I say with a smile. Or what I think is a smile. I’m actually not sure.
Her cheeks turn red, and she rolls her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Eve. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
“I know. Come on, Zane. Let’s go. He’ll come back tomorrow to settle up and get his keys.”
“My keys! He stole them.” I point at the bartender.
“No, he didn’t. He saved your life. Come on.”
Evangeline helps me into my jacket and puts my knit hat over my head. When we get outside, she keeps her arm locked in mine. She tells me when to step down and up as we cross the street and all but pushes me up her flight of stairs.
Inside her place, I sigh heavily.
She helps take off my jacket and shows me where the bathroom is, which is smart because I really have to go. When I stumble out of the bathroom after doing my business, she hands me some pills and a bottle of water.
“I made you a bed on the couch, and I plugged your phone into the charger.”
“Did she call?”
“I’m assuming you mean Caryn, and I don’t know. Come on.” She guides me to the couch, making sure I’m comfortable. “I’ll leave the bathroom light on so you can see where you’re going and there’s a bucket on the floor. Just in case.”
“Eve, come lie on the couch with me.” I pat the blankets a few times, just in case she doesn’t know what I mean.
“No, Zane. Go to sleep.”
I can hear Eve moving about her place. She’s quiet, and I can’t tell what she’s doing. Now, more than ever, I wish I wasn’t drunk off my ass and unable to function. In my time of need, she came to save me when she didn’t have to. She’s by far, the best person I know.
THIRTEEN
EVANGELINE
Receiving a phone call from the local watering hole isn’t a new thing. Often, whoever is working will call me if they think someone is about to do something they’ll regret in the morning. Being the local attorney to everyone in town means someone along the way thought it was a good idea for me to play mediator before the police show up.
However, when the phone call is about your ex-boyfriend, you have to make a decision on whether you want to be involved with whatever antics he’s involved in or stay far, far away. Clearly, something happened with Caryn. She wasn’t at the ceremony and Zane seemed upset. His eyes wandered a lot, and he kept checking his phone. Sure, he put on a cheerful facade for his dad, but I could tell he wasn’t fully present.
Every part of me should’ve stayed at home, and told Kaden, the bartender, to call Mr. Whitaker or the police. If I were a vindictive person, the latter would’ve been somewhat satisfying, but I’m not. And the last thing Mr. Whitaker needs is to come out in the cold to rescue his drunk son.
After changing out of my very cozy, very warm flannel pants with vintage Santas all over them, I slip into my boots and walk down the street to the Marching Soldier. As soon as I walk in, I see Zane hunched over a tumbler of something. He was never a drinker when we dated and would occasionally have a beer if we were out with friends. I can honestly say the only time I saw him drunk was after his mom died. We were juniors in high school and her death shook him to the core. I swiped a bottle of vodka from my parents’ liquor cabinet, and took it out to the lake, with Zane. He drank. He talked. I listened.