I slam the sealed bottle of vodka against the counter and stare at it with shaky hands. On the one hand, I want to drink until I no longer can taste Lana on my tongue. But on the other, it feels like I’m letting her down in some way.
Blacking out won’t solve anything.
Neither will sitting around, reading a book to escape my reality. We all have coping strategies, and mine just happen to be found at the bottom of a bottle.
I hesitate while pouring myself a drink.
You told Lana you would limit your drinking for her.
Yeah, well, these are desperate times and all.
I forgo the glass and drink straight from the bottle instead. The first sip was meant to erase the taste of Lana’s guava icing from my tongue. Alcohol is a poor substitute, but the taste wiped away any traces of sweetness from my mouth. The second chug was to try—and fail—to forget the way Lana’s lips felt pressed against mine. The rightness of it all. The memories that were stirred up by her lips brushing against mine. The craving I have to repeat the kiss all over again, this time without any kid to interrupt us.
The rest of my night is a bit hazy. Next thing I know, a large amount of vodka is missing and the sun is already starting to rise.
This is the feeling I crave. The numbness. The stillness of my thoughts. The ability to disappear into the darkness for a little while and escape my problems.
It’s not until I wake up the next day at two p.m. with a pounding headache that I realize just how much I drank.
“Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut.
I’m only able to get another hour of sleep in before my empty stomach declares war. I climb out of bed and take a quick shower to wipe away the alcohol seeping out of my every pore.
Although I had plans to finish up working on the attic, I think it’s best that I stay away from the lake house today.
Only because you’re afraid.
Hell yeah, I’m afraid. The last thing I want to do is confront Lana after last night, especially when I look as hungover as I feel.
So, instead of heading in the direction of the house, I get in my car and drive to Main Street in search of food. My options are limited to the coffee shop and Early Bird Diner since most of the nicer places are packed with summer tourists who just arrived.
As tempted as I am to avoid Isabelle after the incident with Wyatt, I need to face her eventually. It’s only right after the whole scene I caused in her restaurant. Plus, I really don’t want to spend the rest of my summer cooking for myself every single day.
I walk into the diner with my head held high and a smile on my face.
Isabelle turns toward the bell chiming above me and frowns. “You’re brave to show your face around here after the last time.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I come in peace.”
Her right brow arches. “I’m not sure you know the meaning of the word after you tried to choke our town hero.”
It takes everything in me to not roll my eyes at the way she moons over Wyatt. “I’m sorry for causing a scene the last time I was here. It was wrong of me to stir up trouble like that in your place of business, and I swear not to do it again. Scout’s honor.” I hold up three fingers.
She remains quiet while pinning me in place with her glare.
“Please take pity on me and my empty stomach.” I press the palms of my hands together.
She rolls her eyes. “Quit your moping and take a seat before you make me look bad.” With a flick of her hand, I step toward the booth beside the window overlooking Main Street. Lamppost banners hang from each streetlight to remind everyone of the fast-approaching Strawberry Festival I stupidly decided to volunteer for.
Isabelle slaps a menu on my table and leaves to go grab my orange juice.
I flip through the menu and decide on a turkey club before pulling out my phone to text Iris.
What are you up to?
Iris
Get a life.
My eyes roll.
Iris
Only when you’re texting her while she is napping.
Since when does she nap?
Iris
She wasn’t feeling well.
I’ll call her later.
Without Iris to entertain me, I’m left to play Candy Crush until Isabelle deems me worthy enough to have my order taken.
“What do you want?” She props her hand on her hip.
I pass her my menu. “A turkey club and a side of french fries, please.”
She scribbles the order on her tiny pad before leaving.
A white-haired man with a set of crutches struggles to open the front door, so I jump out of my seat to help him.
“You.” He sneers.
My smile widens. “Sheriff Hank. What a nice surprise.”
“Can’t say the same about you.” His eyes narrow.
“Don’t tell me you’re still holding a grudge against me after the incident Alana and I had with your police cruiser.” I only nicked his car with my side mirror, but he never forgave me.
I keep the door open while he hobbles into the diner with his crutches.
He shakes his head. “You should have stayed away. That girl has been through enough as it is between you and Victor.”
My smile falls. “Victor?”
Hank’s brows furrow as his mouth clamps shut.
“Who the hell is Victor?” I ask with a low voice.
Is that who you saw kissing Lana near Last Call?
Hank tries to circle around me, but I step in his path.
He looks up with a pinched expression. “Get out of my way.”
“Not until you tell me who Victor is and what he has to do with Alana.”
You already know who he is.
My fingers curl into themselves. Hank huffs and puffs his way around me, only to be blocked every time.
His gaze cuts into me. “Cut it out or I’ll call someone down at the station to come arrest you for being a public nuisance.”
“Make sure they’re gentle with the cuffs this time.” I hold my hands up in front of his face.
“You really want to know?”
The hairs on my arms rise. “Yes.”
“Fine. Victor was a guy Alana dated for a few months after her mom passed away.”
There’s your answer.
My stomach sinks. Fuck. “And what was wrong with him?”
“What wasn’t? The man was a walking red flag, although none of us paid much attention until it was too late.”
Acid crawls up my throat. “How so?”
“That’s not my story to tell.” His lips thin.
“Then why mention him in the first place?”
“Because if you screw around with Alana, we will run you out of this town just like Victor.”
I swallow past the thick lump in my throat. “I’m not here to mess around with her.”
“You better not or else.”
“Or else what?”
“Pray you never have to find out.”
