Page 60 of Cherry Picking

“You be good, son. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll be back in a couple weeks.”

Dad’s eyebrows climb. “That quick?”

“We play the Aces then. Haven’t you been tracking the schedule?”

He snorts. “It’s on the fridge, smart-ass.”

“Then you already knew.”

Tampa at home on the twenty-eighth, Toronto on New Year’s Eve—it’s a stretch that leaves zero days off between now and January. Next month is the western swing—four cities in eleven days, with Vegas sitting right in the middle of the mess.

Which means this is the end of the line until then.

I pack the bag, hug him goodbye at the threshold, and load the rental one-handed while I argue with the shop about an early return. By the time I aim for the airport, the sun is up, but the streets are still empty enough to make the trip easy.

I’m at a gate coffee stand, watching my fourth cup of the morning go cold on the counter, when the phone lights up.

Evie

can you come by before the airport?

Fuck. I could’ve gone to her place. There was plenty of time to do the right thing.

But I knew exactly what would happen the second that door opened, and it wouldn’t have involved talking. I’d want her out of those clothes before I managed a full sentence. I’d lose the entire morning and one more scrap of resolve I can’t afford to spend.

The other night was good. It was really fucking good—enough that I caught myself doing the math on the flight schedule, wondering what it would take to push the return by twenty-four hours.

Then Dad fell, and I was twenty minutes away with my phone buried in a pile of clothes on her floor.

I can’t afford to lose my head like that because I know the invoice. I let a woman in once, all the way, and spent two years putting the pieces back together. I was out celebrating a win when Zig died.

Good things break.

With Evie, I’d put the armor aside to take what I wanted, and the ground gave out instantly. Every time I stop watching the horizon, something bad finds its way through the gate.

And if I turn this into something real and it fails later, it doesn’t stay between us. She still has to show up for her shift. My father is counting on that being simple.

I can’t be the reason his one steady thing gets complicated. More than that, I can’t promise I’ll be back in Vegas once he’s healthy enough to stand on his own.

Briggs

sorry. left early to drop off the rental

Three dots blink, then stall. My flight isn’t for three hours, but I needed to be clear of that house before I lost my nerve.

Evie

call me when you’re settled at the condo?

Briggs

we have a big stretch coming up. gonna be heads-down for a while

Evie

are you serious?