Page 23 of Cold Foot Cash

“You’ll get used to it.”

She pursed her lips against a smile. “You’re not allowed to take my phone again.”

“Fine.”

“That wasn’t a good friend move.”

“Disagree. That cement-head should absolutely see you move on.”

“It’s not how I want to handle any of this, and I didn’t move on. It’s not true. I’m at the end of this thing, and I want to go out the way I want to. The high road is the best road.”

“The high road sucks.”

“It’s my choice.”

He blew out a sigh and cocked his head. “Fine.” He waited a two-count and then said, “I don’t regret it though. I hope he lost his shit.”

“He did,” she assured him. “And no more hugging. I’m married.”

He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and then led her toward the next aisle. “On a technicality. That dick-sack lost you a long time ago, and you know it.”

“What is a dick-sack?”

He picked up a pair of red flannel pajamas. “Do you want to get these or lingerie?”

“Lingerie? Why would I want to wear that to sleep in?”

“I don’t know what you like. I just met you like four minutes ago.”

“And you’ve already seen me cry,” she muttered to herself. “So smooth.”

“I don’t know. I got a half-chub hugging you. I don’t think the crying deters me,” he said as he sorted through sizes in the pajama pant bin.

“Do you just say whatever comes to your head?”

“You said come and head in the same sentence.”

“You’re a drain on your entire friend group, aren’t you?”

“I am like one of those liquors you need to take in small sips,” he agreed.

She was back to fighting smiles. Cash was a fixer of moods.

He wasn’t lying. Cash was actually good at compartmentalizing a task and going with it. He was logical and led her through the store, helping her pick what she needed. He even gave opinions on a few clothing options, and a jacket that would be good for the still-cool weather here.

When she had paid out, and her wares all bagged up, he walked her back to the motel. In front of her room, he handed her the two bags he’d been carrying, and stepped back, shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “You have a lot going on,” he said.

She huffed a humorless laugh. “At this time, yes I do. I hate it. I can’t wait to feel normal again.”

“You will. Tuesday, you will.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t need to tell him that Alissa said Lance was already talking about not showing up. Again. “Um, thank you for not being a douchebag about all my crybaby stuff.”

He grinned. “A hottie with a body, all vulnerable and open, letting me take care of something for her? I haven’t felt this useful in over half a decade.”

“Mmm, on account of prison?” she jabbed.

His grin deepened. “On account of prison. There weren’t many women in there passing me their number and asking me to be their hero.”

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