Page 42 of Fought and Freed

She appreciated the thought but shook her head. “It would cost too much to have it overnighted. Plus, I need to get back out there and experience new things. I promise I’ll tell Torr if it gets overwhelming, and we’ll come back.”

He leaned over to grab her cup and handed it to her. “Drink some more, then we’ll watch TV until you’re tired.”

She did as he suggested, sipping the tea he made for her, grateful to have him by her side while they waited for Skylar’s return.

12

SKYLAR

Skylar rode through the night with no idea of where he was going, his mind caught up on what had just happened.

The entire ride back from the Elk Lodge, he’d felt Maddy’s gaze on him, judging him. And every time he had peeked over at Jace, not saying a damn thing, he’d known they were waiting for him to speak, but what the Hell could he say?

Him? A dad? He was going to be a fucking dad!

That just sounded so strange to him. He used a condom every time he was with Amber, and none of them broke. He’d remember that happening.

Unless she’d done something to them? He wouldn’t put it past her to poke holes in their condoms.

Being civil toward Amber was impossible, not after everything she’d done to him. The thought of being tied to her for the rest of his life made him sick. She would make his life a living Hell.

Why wasn’t she still in jail?

Skylar glanced around and realized he’d been so in his head that he had no idea where he was.

To the left was a rundown, red brick building with bikes lining the curb at the front and a neon sign that said Marty’s. Everything else around it was closed.

His gut told him not to go in, but he didn’t listen as he parked his bike at the end of the line.

He was in the mood to get drunk and get into a good fight.

When he walked into the bar, every head turned toward him.

He nodded in greeting, and everyone returned to what they were doing.

Skylar walked over to an empty stool at the bar, sat, then turned to watch the guys playing pool.

“What can I get you, hon?” asked a soprano voice.

Skylar turned back toward the bar and looked at the woman with puffy red hair who stood behind it.

She appeared to be in her late twenties to early thirties, though it was hard to tell through all the makeup. The old T-shirt she wore had a deep V cut down the front, and when she leaned over, he could see her breasts.

Skylar kept his gaze on her face. “Grant, neat, and keep them coming.”

She sashayed away, then returned with a glass and the bottle of Grant. She set the glass in front of him and filled it with two fingers of whiskey.

He shot it back. “Another.”

He lost count of how much he drank, but the bottle was half empty when Trixie, as she’d introduced herself, leaned across the bar. “How about you take a breather while you and I have some fun in the back? A good fuck is better for helping you to forget than another shot of booze.”

Skylar looked up at her. “All I want to do is have a drink in peace without you trying to get me to fuck your ugly ass. Go help your other customers but leave the bottle. I’ll pay for it.”

He opened his wallet, pulled out two twenties, and slapped them onto the bar.

She snatched them up with a huff and stormed away.

He gave up on drinking from the glass, instead taking a swig from the bottle. He ran his hand through his hair. Fuck his life. He had to be cursed. Every time something good happened, something else came along to destroy it.

---