Page 112

Then I see the look on Lainey's face when I threw Charlie in hers.

Sitting here thinking about either one sounds fucking miserable. "Fuck it. One drink. Let's go."

Mason grins. "That's my boy."

Wyatt shakes his head. "This is a bad idea."

"It's a beer, Wyatt. Not a felony," Mason declares.

Wyatt mutters, "That remains to be seen."

Despite myself, I snort.

Mason points at him. "See? He's already feeling better." He heads for his truck, and I follow.

Wyatt doesn't move.

"You coming?" I ask.

"Sorry, bro, but I'm sitting this one out. Call me if you need me to bail you out of jail."

"Don't be so dramatic," Mason calls back.

"Suit yourself."

I climb into the passenger seat.

Mason cranks the radio, pulls through the gate, and the ranch disappears behind us. A few minutes later, he asks, "You good?"

"No."

He glances at me.

I lean my head against the seat. "But I will be."

"That's the spirit."

"Don't make me regret agreeing to this."

"One drink," he promises.

I stare through the windshield at the dark road.

If she wants space, I'll give her space.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lainey

By the time I pull into the hotel parking lot, I've replayed my fight with Jagger so many times, I'm not even sure which part I'm angriest about anymore. There's the fact he wouldn't take no for an answer, the way he kept insisting he was only trying to take care of me, and the cheap shot about Charlie.

That one wins.

Definitely that one.

I park near the lobby and shut off the engine. Snowflakes drift through the glow of the parking lot lights, landing on the windshield and disappearing almost as quickly as they hit.

My phone sits in the cupholder. I pick it up and disappointment hits.