Page 24 of Whiskey and Whispers
Did Cat even want to be friends with Tate? She’d asked. He’d said yes. But now that he’d agreed, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was wise or foolish.
She wanted him to be a part of her life. She just wasn’t sure what that looked like. They weren’t lovers. Friends was the only other option, right?
At one point, Tate had been her most important person. He’d been far more than her friend, boyfriend, or lover. He’d been…everything.
Her source of love, comfort, laughter, challenge, and so much more. Her days had been filled with him, and when they’d both gone off to college, it had been almost like losing a physical limb. A huge part of her had been missing, and she hadn’t known how to fill it.
Even now, as she gazed at him across the table, her mind was filled with images from their past. Happiness, laughter, love, and yes, some anger, too. They’d had a few disagreements in their relationship. Fights that had seemed like the end of the world. They’d been kids, after all, and hadn’t always made the best choices.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Do you need anything else?”
That’s a question I haven’t answered for myself yet.
“I’m fine. I didn’t mean to scare you. I think I was in a little bit of shock. There was so much blood. I still can’t quite wrap my mind around it. And then the doctor said that Tyler might not make it.”
“He’s a fighter,” Tate replied. “He’d got as good a chance as anyone.”
She wanted to believe. At no time during her mother’s cancer treatment had any doctor sounded like the one in the emergency room today.
“The doctor didn’t sound hopeful.”
“He probably didn’t want to get our hopes up.”
“Trust me, he didn’t.”
“I just hope Finn can find who did this quickly,” Tate said. “This is going to shake up the whole town. People are going to be afraid to be outside.”
“Who would want to shoot Tyler? Or Josh, for that matter? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t know. A disgruntled customer, maybe? For Josh. I don’t know why anyone would shoot at Tyler. He doesn’t even live here.”
“Could it be random?” she asked, fiddling with the paper napkin. “I guess that would be even worse, though. Someone just shooting at people for no particular reason. That’s ghastly.”
“I’d hate to think we have a sniper in Winslow Heights,” Tate replied. “I think we need to operate on the assumption that someone was aiming for either Josh or Tyler. Finn is questioning people, and he’ll also try to get any security camera footage from the area.”
“Josh and Rachel have cameras around the property. She mentioned them when she showed me around the house last night.”
“Finn will definitely look at that. Maybe some of their neighbors might have cameras, too. Plus, any traffic cams going in and out of the neighborhood. The state forensic team was out there looking for any evidence the shooter might have left behind.”
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to deal with this,” Cat admitted. “I’m freaked out, and I’m not sure if I’m reacting correctly. Should I faint? Should I be screaming? Should I make a casserole? That’s what my mom would tell me to do. She thinks a homemade lasagna can fix anything.”
“Your mom’s lasagna always made me feel better,” Tate declared. “I hope she’s feeling good these days.”
“She is, and I know that both she and I appreciate all you did before I brought her to New York with me.”
“It was no trouble. I always liked your mom very much.”
Grace Townsend would have loved to have Tate for a son-in-law. She’d never made any secret of that, although she had far more mixed emotions about Joel Winslow being part of the family.
The door to the tavern swung open, and the sheriff walked through, heading straight for their table. Cat had noticed that he hadn’t looked well this morning and didn’t look any better now. If anything, he was worse - his face pale and his eyes glassy.
If she’d known him better, she would have told him to go home and get straight into bed. Drink plenty of fluids and watch mindless reality television. But they didn’t have that sort of relationship, so she kept her opinion to herself.
“Christ, you look like death warmed over.”
Apparently, Tate did have a relationship like that with the sheriff.
“I feel like it,” Finn replied, his voice hoarse. “But I can’t give in to whatever demon flu this is. I’ve got several deputies out, and poor Campbell would be in charge if I go down. I can’t do that to him.”
