Someone fills the empty shot glass in front of me to the brim. I cast my eyes up and nod in appreciation. The older woman smiles. I glance at her name tag. “Thanks, Karen.”

“I figured you needed another one. That one’s on the house.” Need another one? I chuckle to myself. I need the whole fucking bottle. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m your girl.” She looks up and down the empty bar. “Got nothin’ better to do.”

Picking up the amber liquid, I swallow the heat in one gulp. “I’m tired of talking,” I murmur, slamming the glass down. Talking didn’t keep Ellie here. She left me. I should’ve gone straight to Everly’s house and demanded she tells me everything, so I could leave and fight my way back into Ellie’s heart. But a part of me is afraid to hear the truth.   

“Hey there, Sheriff,” Karen says to someone standing behind me. My head lolls forward and I groan. Can’t he give me some fucking space? His eyes burn a hole in my back. Right where the knife is that he put there years ago.

“Hi Karen. This guy causing trouble?”

She looks at me and I roll my eyes, dragging my hand across my cheek.

“Not at all. But if you’re here to create some, I’m asking you to leave my bar.” She stands tall and stares him down, not the least bit afraid of him. A smile creeps up my cheeks. Wayne’s a pussy. He can’t even get respect wearing a cop uniform.

I twist my neck, looking back when he doesn’t answer. His jaw ticks. “I’m not here to cause problems. We need to talk, Kase.”

I return to looking forward and whistle through my teeth. “Not sure anything you say will help me not want to kill you right now.”

“You boys better cool your shit. I mean it.” Karen looks at me with a side eye, reminding me of my momma when she’d do that to me and Wayne when we were doing something we shouldn’t have been. I scratch my jaw, still wondering how my friend screwed me over?

I spin around on the stool. “You’re right, we need to talk,” I snap, standing and walking to a corner. We both sit and glare at each other, waiting for the other to go first.

“Why?” I finally ask.

“That’s a loaded question. I could ask you the same thing.”

My eyes widen. “Me? You’ve raised my son and you’re sitting there asking me why?”

“You left us to clean up your mess when you ran,” he seethes.

He’s right. I was a chicken shit, but he has no idea why.

“I didn’t know she was pregnant and I would’ve never left had I known. But you didn’t waste any time taking my place.”

His hand slams down. “I did it for you, man.”

“Me!” I roar, jerking forward, getting close to his face. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans forward an inch so we’re almost touching noses.

“You’re the one who put a hole in between your dad’s eyes,” he whispers. I barely register his words. “I covered for you so you wouldn’t go to jail because the bastard deserved what he got and if I told you about the baby, you’d come back home. Jake reminded me every fucking day what would happen. What was I supposed to do?”

Listening to the words fall from his mouth, I replay the day my father died. I only used my fist. What is he talking about? He stares at me, waiting for my response.

“I didn’t…” I pause when the words kill my dad reach my tongue. I did kill my dad. Just not how he thinks. “I didn’t shoot him.” My voice cracks. Does it matter how I did it though?

Wayne’s eyes widen and his back straightens. “Are you kidding me? You'll sit there and lie to me while I’m telling you the shit I went through to save your ass? You’re going to turn around and deny it all?”

I drop my head in between my shoulders. “I’m not denying I killed him. You just have it wrong how he died. I didn’t shoot him.” The silence between us has me looking back up. His face is burning with rage.

“Fuck you, Kase.” He stabs his finger toward me. “I saw him lying on the floor with a bullet hole in his forehead. Nightmares invaded my dreams for months seeing him in the shallow grave we buried him in. I. Did. That. For. You.”

My elbows dig into the wooden table as I run my hands through my hair. I violently shake my head in disbelief. What is happening here? Why aren’t our stories matching up?

“What the hell did you—”

“Stop!” The table shakes as I pound my fist on it. He narrows his eyes at me but stops talking. “I. Didn’t. Shoot. My. Dad,” I draw out each word. “When I drove home after leaving you, I was still pissed. The girl that meant everything looked at me like I was a stranger. My dad ran his mouth and I couldn’t hold my anger back.” Memories flood my mind, my heart races as I clench my hands. “I should’ve stopped when he went down. But I couldn’t. All the years of abuse, for my mom, for me, shot out of my fists. Jake pulled me off.” I look at Wayne, pain twists my face. “When he told me he was dead, I didn’t care. I had lost everything. But I was young and stupid. When he told me to leave and never come back, that he’d take care of it, I did. I didn’t want to go to jail.” Wayne’s brow furrows. “I swear I didn’t shoot him. When I left, he didn’t have a bullet in his head.”

“What are you saying, Kase?” He shrugs a shoulder, giving me a scrutinizing stare. “Someone else put a bullet in your dad after you left? If he was already dead, why?”

Realization dawns on me. I didn’t kill my dad. Jake did.

The man who loved my mom, but hated that she chose my dad over him. The man who despised that I was with his daughter because of who my father was. The man who took my life away from me.

I’m going to kill that man.

My foot bounces as anger works itself through my veins. I swallow the rest of the beer, slamming it on the table as I stand up. Wayne struggles to get out of the booth quicker than me, but he’s not on a mission.

“He’s already dead,” he calls out. I stop walking, not needing a reminder that my dad is dead, and I sure as hell don’t need a lecture about how nothing I do can change the past. I fist my hand. “Kase. Jake is dead,” he corrects. I slowly turn to face him. “He was in an accident four years ago with a drunk driver.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Well ain’t karma a bitch?”

He nods slowly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “That it is.” The sadness in his voice tells me there’s more to the story. “Please sit back down.”

It’s hard to look at Wayne in such turmoil. I need to hear what happened, and I’d rather hear it from him than Everly. At least I’ll be able to sort my feelings out before I talk to her.

I blow out a heavy breath and slide past him, back into the booth. He sits back down. “Tell me how you ended up with Everly,” I say after a couple beats of silence.

He cracks his neck back and forth and I can tell he’s nervous. “Jake sent Everly to a hospital in Arizona that specializes in amnesia patients. He told me she was having a hard time. He asked if I would go because we were good friends.”

“Oh yeah, you guys were the best of friends.”

His eyebrow quirks up. “We were still friends. We fought because we were vying for your time.” I shrug at the moot point. “Anyway… I felt bad for her. I tried to call you but you never answered your phone. Hell, I didn’t even know if you still had that phone knowing you were on the run.”

“I wasn’t on the run. I was in the military.” Jake knew where I was. I’m positive he made it his business to keep tabs on me.

“Either way, you weren’t coming home. Before I left is when he told me about the baby.” Wayne lowers his head. I hope this is eating him up inside. “I swear, I wanted to tell you,” he says, looking up with glossy eyes. There’s nothing to say, so I stay quiet. He didn’t tell me. “That’s when Jake laid it all out. He said if I ever told you, he’d have you arrested and then your son would still grow up without you and he'd know you were a murderer. I wasn't allowed to tell Everly either.”

Jake never liked me, but I wouldn’t have thought it ran this deep. He played us like a game of chess, controlling every move until he had us cornered.

“If that’s why you didn’t contact me, there’s a hole in your logic. He died four years ago, Wayne. That would’ve been a good time to call me.”

He takes a pull from his beer, finishing it. His gaze shifts to Karen and he motions he needs another before turning his attention back to me, he lets out a long sigh. “I fell in love with her.”

“She wasn’t yours to fall in love with. You were my best friend.” I lean back against the padded booth and cross my arms. Karen sets two beers down in front of us. The icy stare between us doesn't break while she stands there waiting for acknowledgment, but eventually she lets out a small huff and stomps away.

“I agreed with Jake that it was in the best interest of Reed that you weren’t in his life.”

My jaw sets with frustration. “That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“It was! I was there to help her find her way in life again. I fell in love with her and Reed and I promised myself that I would give them the best life I had to offer. For you!”

“You keep saying you did it for me.” I throw my arms out wide. “You were with the love of my life and my son! Yet, you think inserting yourself – in what should have been my life – was for my benefit? You’re delusional.”

“We can argue this until we’re blue in the face,” his voice lowers. “I fucked up, Kase. I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”

“Did she know Reed wasn’t yours?”

When he looks away, I nod in understanding. The knife in my back twists, pain shooting straight to my heart. I can understand he wanted to help her. I can even understand him being there for me. But telling her that Reed was his, had nothing to do with me.  

His words burn, but I have to endure the pain to know the whole story. They had feelings for each other, so he told her they were together before the accident, that Reed was his. She never questioned it, probably because she didn’t care to learn the truth since she couldn’t remember anything and she loved Wayne.

This is the truth Ellie was talking about. Everly was lied to. She didn’t know about me. She didn’t take my son from me. Jake and Wayne did.  

I slide across the seat and stand, not able to take anymore. I pull out my wallet and throw a fifty-dollar bill on the table. Wayne stares up at me, gripping his beer bottle in his hands.

“Don’t take him from me,” he pleads. His brows furrow as panic flashes in his eyes.

I lean across the table, nailing him with a glare. “He’s. My. Son.” The fucking irony. Don’t take my son. How about he never should have taken my son in the first place?

Pushing off the table, I storm out of the hotel bar and take the stairs to the third floor. The force from shoving the door open and it slamming against the wall, echoes down the hallway.

The shots and beer wreak havoc in my mind. Whispers echo back and forth.

Everly telling me she loves me.

Ellie telling me she loves me.

I slam my skull into my room door a couple times, hoping I can knock the noise out of it. I love Everly.

I mean Ellie.

Fuck!