Page 103 of Whiskey Kisses

Typically, Doyle Whiskey closes so that our employees can spend the day as they like, and this year is no different. At eight a.m., a slightly hungover Tristan and I make our way down to the Basilica Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Owen and Sloane, who flew down a few days ago with Lucky, Bria and Liam, really wanted to start the day with the traditional St. Patty’s Day Mass. My parents used to take Maribelle and me every year, too, so it’s nostalgic.

Sad though too, as I haven’t been back to this church since Daddy’s funeral.

Leaving Mass early, we head over to Oglethorpe Square to get situated before the parade starts. A group of my friends are there, having held down the fort since daybreak, something we do every year because St. Patrick’s Day is bananas and the best viewing spots get taken fast.

We spend the next couple of hours enjoying green beer, street food and the echo of bagpipes. Green confetti flutters like leaves in the breeze. Tristan nudges me, pointing toward a float decorated with an enormous shamrock and a troupe of Irish dancers, their feet tapping in perfect unison. “You’d fit right in,” he teases.

“I was almost one of those girls,” I yell over the noise. “I took classes for a year, but I wasn’t very good.”

“I bet you were cute. It’d be cooler to be that guy over there, anyway,” he jokes, pointing to a man on stilts towering over the parade-goers, handing out green bead necklaces.

A wave of happiness hits me as the midday sun casts a warm hue on the trees and buildings surrounding the square. This is one of my favorite times of year, in my favorite place, and this year I’m spending it with my favorite people. Bria and Lucky lean in as Tristan wraps his arm around my waist, tugging me close. Sloane snaps a picture, and then Liam demands the phone so he can take one of all of us. He ends up taking about a hundred, giggling and darting away like an imp as his dad gives chase.

I’ve just taken a Guinness and Green Jello shot with Bria when I catch a glimpse of a familiar profile in the throng of festive chaos.Was that Cole?My stomach snarls into a nauseating knot. I haven’t seen him in months, not since the day I gave him the whiskey. Last I heard he was back on his feet, working at the restaurant and keeping a low profile. I have no regrets about what I did, but I try not to think about it too much. Taking two lives and almost ending another is a heavy load to carry, no matter how necessary it was.

I search the sea of faces, hoping it was just a trick of the light or my imagination. After all, the guy I saw was thinner than Cole, his hair much shorter. Still, it was a little unnerving. I reach instinctively for Tristan, but he’s over by his parents now, talking animatedly. Lucky’s right beside them, Liam on his shoulders as they watch the Clydesdale horses.

“Are you okay, Evie?” Bria asks. She slides her sunglasses back, peering at me with concern. “Do you need water?”

“No, I’m—” A loud cheer erupts as a new group marches past, their kilts swaying rhythmically with each stride.

“You look flushed,” she insists. “I saw a guy selling water bottles right over there. I’ll go grab us some.”

She hurries off as my phone vibrates with a series of texts. Pulling it from the pocket of my shorts, I study the kaleidoscope of faces around me once more before glancing at the screen. It’s Maribelle.

Hey

Are you at the parade?

I frown at the randomness. We haven’t spoken in a while, not since the probate for Daddy’s estate wrapped up.

Yes.

Three dots appear as she starts responding.

“Evie!” someone calls, touching my arm. My friend Marcel and his boyfriend are passing by with another big group, but he slows long enough to give me a quick side hug. “Where’ve you been hiding, girl? We need to catch up.”

“Yes! Let’s do lunch.” I squeeze his hand as he’s pulled away by the current of people. “I’ll call you!”

My phone vibrates again with Maribelle’s response, only when I look down, the three dots are still there. Looks like I got a text from someone else, an unknown number.

All I ever did was love you.

Remember that.

Unease prickles over my skin as I read and reread the words. Someone comes up behind me, their body close and warm against my back. “I loved you, but you betrayed me, Evie.”

Startled, I drop my phone. Tristan’s eyes meet mine from where he’s standing, his face morphing into alarm as an arm slides around my neck and tightens. Choking out a terrified, furious scream, I claw at Cole’s arm hard enough to draw blood while jamming my other elbow back. He grunts as it connects with his solar plexus, loosening his grip enough for me to slip away, but not before he punches me below my ribs. I spin around, faltering. Our eyes meet for a split second as he comes at me again, his fist glancing off my bicep as Tristan tackles him.

Someone screams, the sound causing a ripple of panic in the crowd. Out on the street, the music continues, blaring cheerfully as Tristan and Cole beat the shit out of each other. I want to do something,anything, but a wave of lightheadedness smacks into me hard enough that I lower myself to the ground.

Owen appears, kneeling at my side. “Where does it hurt?”

I stare at him, disoriented, not feeling much of anything beyond my pounding heart and the slow spread of a cold numbness. A single gunshot blasts over the noise of the parade. The space around us empties as people start running and screaming. A shadow falls over us, and I look up to find a shirtless Lucky hovering over me, pushing his wadded-up t-shirt into my side.

“Stay awake,” Sloane commands, holding my chin up. “Stay awake, Evie.”

“Okay,” I mumble. Nothing hurts, but I feel weak. So weirdly weak. “Did he stab me?”

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