Page 11 of Whiskey & Wreckage

Still feeling a little dazed, I leave the restaurant and just… wander. The hotel is gorgeous in a way that makes me want to touch everything just to make sure it’s real. Gold accents, art on the walls, soft music playing in hidden speakers. It’s like being inside a very quiet, very fancy dream.

I find myself in front of a huge fountain in the middle of the atrium. It’s all marble and elegance and softly splashing water, lit from below like something out of a movie.

I sit on the edge, arms resting on my knees, watching the water dance around like it knows something I don’t.

What the hell is my life right now?

Twenty-four hours ago, I walked in on my boyfriend, whoops ex-boyfriend, screwing my sister.

And now I’m here. Clean. Full. Sitting in a luxury hotel with a full stomach and no clue what tomorrow looks like.

I should be panicking. Iampanicking… underneath the weird calm.

But for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel trapped. And maybe that’s something worth holding onto.

Chapter Four

THOMAS

I don’t do this.

I don’t escort women out of bars, tuck them into hotel rooms, and wake up thinking about them like I’m in a goddamn Hallmark movie. I don’t get…involved.

But here I am. Sitting at the head of the conference table in the glass-walled boardroom of Ashcroft Security, staring at a report I’ve supposedly read twice, while my entire team watches me like I’ve grown a second head.

“You wanna maybe join us here on Earth?” Nash says, one brow arched like a challenge. “Or are we holding this meeting in your daydream now?”

I grunt, flipping the page in front of me for the third time. “I’m listening.”

“Bullshit,” Maya says flatly. “You haven’t heard a word we’ve said in twenty minutes.”

I look up slowly, catching the pointed stares from all four people seated around me,Nash, Maya, Griff, and Kellan. My core team. They know me better than anyone. Which is exactly the problem.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

Griff leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Fine doesn’t look like you’re mentally rewriting a Nicholas Sparks novel.”

“I’m not.”

“You’retotallydoing the thing,” Nash adds helpfully, “where you pretend nothing’s wrong while also emotionally spiraling into a black hole.”

“Wouldn’t call it a spiral,” I mutter.

“Oh shit,” Maya says, sitting forward. “This is about a woman.”

I tense. No one misses it.

“I knew it!” she hisses. “I freakingknew it.”

Nash points at me like he’s just won a game show. “So what’s her name?”

I hesitate.

“Thomas paused,” Griff announces gleefully. “It’s official. The world is ending.”

“Her name’s Poppy,” I say finally, exhaling through my nose.

Everyone leans in like I just dropped classified intel.

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