Page 3 of Drunk Dialing

“Yessir. I’m gonna just pop in and check on him.”

That made Trap laugh outright. “All casual-like.”

“You know me, Trap.”

“Brother, I know you. I’d be sorry for Jake’s ass, but…well…you know.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go get him.” He laughed, hope in his belly for the first time in a long time. “I know what I heard.”

“Well, good luck, man. I wish you the best. I won’t warn him, but if you break him, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I hear it. I do. I don’t want to break him down, man.” He didn’t. Fuck him silly? Yes. Beat him a little for leaving? Sure.

But basically? He wanted to keep Jake, love him, and spend their lives together.

“Okay. Well, holler if either of you need moral support. Right now, that’s all I can offer.”

“You got it. Give my love to Marisa.” He grinned when Trap scoffed. “Bye.”

“Later.”

They hung up, and he started packing a bag.

He needed to get to San Antonio.

Yesterday.

Chapter Two

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jake smiled at the next little old-folker, signed a picture of himself, and nodded, but in his head, he was losing his mind.

He’d fucked up in a vast, horrifying way.

He didn’t even begin to know what to do.

Change his number? His whole life was on his phone.

Run to Mexico? Now there was an idea. Cheap hotel. Tequila. Boom.

If he didn’t make the short go, that was his plan.

Mexico. Beach. Hiding out. It was perfect.

Of course, as much as gas cost right now, he probably wouldn’t make it to Mexico if he didn’t ride. Jesus, he was a moron.

He’d ride.

If he had to, he’d superglue his butt to the bull.

Okay, that was a funny thought.

He signed another photo. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.”

The voice had his head snapping up, his eyes widening.

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