Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
I hated to drag people into my business, but I didn’t have the energy for more Evie tonight. I pulled out my phone to call my mom, but then Evie’s name started to flash on the screen.
I sighed and debated answering. By the fourth ring, I decided if I didn’t, she’d only keep calling back. So I swiped.
“Hello?”
She cried into the phone. “You…you’re kicking me out?”
I sat up. “What are you talking about?”
I could barely make out what she was saying, her words so slow and slurred. “The real estate lady… She came by.”
Oh fuck. “Evie, let’s talk tomorrow when you’re sober.”
“We can’t,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow.”
“Don’t say that, Evie.”
“But it’s true.”
I stood. “Evie, just sit tight. I’m coming home.”
She sobbed harder.
“Evie, talk to me.”
She steadied herself with a big breath and whispered into the phone. “I gotta go. I’m sorry, Fox.”
Something about the way she said it sent chills up my arms. She sounded so desolate.
“Sorry for what? Evie!”
“Goodbye.”
“Evie—wait!”
The line went silent. I called back, but it rang once and dropped right into voicemail. I called again while running through the rink and out to the car. When she still wouldn’t answer as I started the car, I dialed 911.
“Nine-one-one. State your emergency.”
“I need someone to go to my house. Forty-four Rosewood Lane.”
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I think my fiancée is in danger.”
“Is someone going to hurt her?”
“No. I’m afraid she might hurt herself.”
CHAPTER 32
* * *
The Coward
Fox
“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me…”
“Took you long enough to open the damn door.” Opal brushed past me.
My mother at least had the decency to look like she felt bad showing up unannounced. She kissed my cheek before walking in. “Sorry we didn’t call first. But this is necessary, Fox.”
I wasn’t happy, but I stepped back and held out my hand for her to walk in.
She smiled sadly. “Thank you.”
I stole a glance next door before shutting myself inside with two women I was in no condition to talk to. No sign of Josie.
In the kitchen, my mother was already fixing a pot of coffee, and Opal was cleaning up the mess I’d made over the last two days. This wasn’t good. They were already synchronized and had a plan of attack. Meanwhile, I felt unbalanced. The food I’d eaten sometime in the middle of the night was threatening to make an appearance, and my head was already starting to pound, though I wasn’t quite sober yet. I was no match for these two in my current state. But it wasn’t like I could sober up fast, so I went the other direction. I swiped the fifth of whiskey from the counter, twisted off the cheap plastic cap, and swigged back as much as I could get down.
Opal shook her head. “At least buy the good stuff. That crap will kill ya.”
“Next time, bring it with you. Or better yet, don’t come at all.”
With the table clear, Opal motioned to the chairs. “Why don’t we sit down?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not if you want us to leave anytime soon.”
I frowned and pulled the chair out.
Mom stayed at the coffeemaker, waiting for it to finish brewing.
“What happened?” Opal asked.
“Ray said something that pissed me off, so I hit him. Cops came.”
“Not that. We don’t care about Ray. Someone should’ve walloped that snake a long time ago. What happened with Josie that set you on a tear?”
I shrugged. “It should’ve never happened. The woman sends Christmas cards to strangers because she believes in some fantasy that doesn’t exist. I’m no knight in shining armor.”
“Well, that much we know. Because as far as I’m aware, there aren’t any knights named Sir Surliness or Lord Grumpalot. But that’s beside the point. Josie is a smart woman. She knows exactly who you are. Yet for some insane reason, she still cares about your ass. So tell us what went down, and we’ll try and help you fix it.”
I raked a hand through my hair. “There’s nothing to fix.”
The coffeemaker beeped. My mom had been leaning against the counter watching Opal and me, but she turned and opened the cabinet above her head, the one where I kept mugs. She froze with one in her hand, looking out the window to the yard. “Where’s the kayak that’s always in the same spot on the dock?”
When I didn’t cough up an answer fast enough, Mom turned. “Fox, where’s the kayak?”
This wasn’t going to end unless I gave them something. Might as well be what they came for. I closed my eyes, because I knew the reaction my answer would garner. “It sank in the lake. With Josie and me in it.”
The room grew quiet. I imagined the glances being exchanged before the looks of pity were directed at me. Eventually, there was a rattling of dishes and the sound of the chair next to me scraping along the tile floor. When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find there weren’t mugs on the table—there were shot glasses. Mom took the bottle of whiskey in front of me and poured a round. The three of us knocked them back in silence. Two ounces seemed to have a much bigger effect on me than it should’ve. It seemed to reactivate my drunkenness. My head spun, and I slouched over the tiny glass.