Chapter 2
Garrett Myers stared down into the bottom of his whiskey glass, a haze hanging heavy over his mind. He preferred it that way, functioning with a constant buzz in his head. It made the days drudge by a little faster, and the pain feel a little more dull.
“Can you believe it?” a voice drawled on behind him. “Old man Young done in by a wasp. Talk about a freak accident, and to think, in October. ” Garrett stilled, his body rigid against the bar as he tried to process what he was hearing—and if he had even heard the last name right.
“I heard Beth Young is back in town for the funeral,” a woman chimed in. “My mom said it’s the first time she’s shown face in years. Takes someone dying for some to come home, I guess. Kind of sad, I think. I don’t know why everyone wants to hurry up and get outta this town like it’s gonna kill ‘em.”
You ain’t got a clue, lady. He squeezed his eyes shut, his vision immediately filled with the sight of the only Beth he could remember anymore; her wild green eyes boring into his, filled with anger and tears as she punched his chest, screaming profanities at him. He cleared his throat, raising a hand to catch the bartender’s attention.
“I think I’ll have another… Please .”
Lauren, who happened to be Beth’s old best friend and someone he saw on the regular these days, frowned at him. “Really, Garrett? Another? You’ve been here all night. Why don’t I just call your daddy and have him?—”
“No,” he cut her off, shaking his head beneath his beat-up Stetson. “Just pour me another. Straight.”
She cocked her full hip out to the side, appearing to ready herself to protest, but then rolled her eyes, giving in. “ One more, then I’m cuttin’ you off. I don’t want to hear it from the sheriff next time he’s in here.”
“That’s fine,” Garrett muttered under his breath, once again searching for the voice he had heard behind him. However, he couldn’t find it, even after angling his body to the thick crowd filling the historic honkytonk. Outlaws had been around for a hundred years, so the old timers said, and on a weekend night, it was filled to the brim. Nobody had anything better to do, unless they were ranching, and even then, lots of the farmers, old and young alike, still showed up before closing time.
“Here,” Lauren set his drink down. “This is it, Garrett. I mean it. No more. I?—”
“Beth’s in town,” he muttered, meeting her baby blue eyes. “And her dad’s dead.”
Lauren’s brows raised, and she gave another customer her index finger, cuing them to wait as she leaned across the bar, lowering her voice. “What did you just say?”
He sighed, not really wanting to repeat it, but he did, and then added. “I shoulda been there at the funeral, don’t you think?”
She studied him, and then shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not in this state. Beth wouldn’t want to see you like this. No one wants to see you like this.”
Garrett chuckled. “I don’t think anyone wants to see me at all.” His voice slurred again. “‘Specially not Beth Young.” His eyes dropped to his glass, and he swept it up, downing half of it in one go, numb to the burn that came with it.
Lauren blew out a sharp breath. “I don’t know. I don’t know Beth well enough anymore to have anything to say on the matter, but I doubt she’ll be here long.” With that, she stepped away, taking the other patron’s order and leaving Garrett to his own devices.
He finished his drink, ignoring the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He knew it’d be Brittany, his soon-to-be ex-wife, wanting to know where he was at, what he was doing, and why he was always making her look so bad. She should’ve never married him in the first place, really. He was no different now than he was at the beginning—she just somehow got it in her head that she could fix him back then. He rubbed his fatigued eyes, and then reached into his pocket, silencing another reminder of just how screwed up he was.
Sixteen years since I’ve seen Beth. The thought drowned out the others as he sat the empty glass down, and turned toward the crowd, peering across to the back exit. I’ll bet she still hates me. He couldn’t blame her for that—just like he couldn’t blame her for running off and starting some new life with some rich guy who’d never made a mistake in his life.
His stomach soured at that, and he wondered what the decade and a half had done to Beth. Was her hair still that pretty auburn shade? Or had she gone off and dyed it blonde? Did she leave it long and wild? Or had she bobbed it off at her chin? Did she ever think of him, and not have bile shoot up the back of her throat? When her dad visited him, he never, ever spoke of her.
Probably out of respect. Or maybe he knew more than he let on.
Garrett stumbled through the crowd, bumping shoulders with dancing couples and mumbling some version of “sorry ‘bout that,” as he went. No one danced with him. In fact, even when he had married Brittany, he’d gotten so wasted, he’d passed out before anyone had even thought about dancing. He had blamed it on the nerves later on, but he’d knew the truth. He’d always known the truth. He still couldn’t close his eyes and not see her.
“Garrett,” a light touch on his shoulder stopped him as he reached the hallway off the dance floor, leading to the exit. “Let me take you home.”
He glanced back at the familiar voice and face, seeing Sarah Armitage, another girl from Beth’s class and friend of sorts. He shook his head. “I ain’t goin’ home tonight.”
Her cherry-red lips turned downward. “You’re not sleeping in your truck again. That’s just dumb, and you know it. Brittany won’t be there.”
“Doubt it,” he snorted, slinking away and ignoring the way her high-heeled cowboy boots hustled to keep up. “I just wish she’d sign the papers.”
“It’ll be finalized whether or not she signs them, Garrett,” Sarah urged. “That’s how it works. I know it. Just let me take you home. You can call your lawyer tomorrow.”
He stopped, hand on the push bar of the door, and turned back to her. “What do you know about divorces, huh? Your old man was the one who did all the work, and you were already in the next bed before it was ever finalized.” He winced at the pang of hurt on her face, layered with perfectly done makeup. She was always overdressed, still trying to meet that prom queen expectation she put on herself.
She clenched her fists at her sides, glaring at him. “Lucas and I were way more complicated than you and Brittany, and you know that. Brittany took you in because she?—”
“Has some obsession with people who need fixing,” he cut her off, his head now throbbing instead of buzzing. The last glass was finally hitting him, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d be out cold. Hopefully somewhere safe, and not on the train tracks where he’d ended up more than once.
Sarah grabbed his arm, and then pushed open the door, a rush of humid, heavy air sweeping in around them. “I’ll take you to my place then.”
“Why?” He tried to jerk away from her. “I don’t need your sympathy.”
“I don’t sympathize for you,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “I ain’t got one iota of pity for you, Garrett Myers. You made one mistake in your life, and you decided to go off and ruin the whole dang thing.”
“Yeah, well…” His voice trailed off as he spotted a dark blue Ford idling in the corner of the back lot. He stared at it as Sarah drug him around toward the front of the building, her boots crunching in the gravel. She seemed to pay it no mind, but he couldn’t figure out why the heck someone would park like that, facing the back of the bar. He didn’t recognize who it was.
But then again, he barely recognized himself anymore.
“You can sleep on the couch, and if Ty Miller shows up, just tell him that I said you could stay there. I’ve been on like three dates with him, and he acts like we’ve been married for ten years.”
“He’s a dumb?—”
“Don’t even start,” Sarah snapped, cutting him off. “You ain’t got room to say anything about who I choose to spend my time with. Lord knows my grammy would be losing her mind if she knew I was fixing to take you home.”
“So then don’t,” Garrett drawled, stumbling over his own two feet.
She eyed him, shooting him a glare and then fell into silence for the rest of the awkward walk to her silver Toyota 4Runner. She opened the back passenger door, and gestured for him to climb inside, shaking her head as he clambered clumsily in, cursing under his breath as he nailed his knee on the frame.
“You thought about trying rehab out again? Maybe AA?” she snorted as he finally made it in.
“Waste of time,” he grumbled, but it was said after she’d slammed the door, leaving him sitting in the dark as she made her way to the driver’s side. She tossed her blonde waves over her shoulder as she climbed in and started the engine. He tilted back against the headrest, praying to God he wouldn’t vomit all over her black leather seats.
“You’re lucky I’m here tonight,” Sarah said as she pulled out of the parking spot, jetting off toward the exit of the lot. “I had planned on hanging out with Ty.”
Garrett sighed as he stared at the back of his eyelids, his consciousness beginning to come and go. “Yep, lucky me.”
She turned on a Zach Bryan song, and the harmonica intro filled the cab. He tried to focus on the lyrics, hearing something about a funeral. It felt like torture to hear that word. The last one he was supposed to have been at was Sam’s, and he’d never made it. He’d been in jail. He should’ve been there for his best friend. He should’ve been there for the family that had become his own.
And for Beth.
He took a deep breath as Sarah took a hard right off the highway, bouncing the car down a gravel road. He felt the tires slide a little on the rocks, and bile rose up in the back of his throat as it triggered his mind to run wild. Sounds of a distant scream filled his ears, and he raised his hands to cover them like a child, biting down on the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted copper.
It hadn’t taken much for him to realize he had a weak mind. He always had, maybe. Maybe it was a good thing he and Sam never made it to enlist. Maybe it was a good thing Beth ran off and found someone who wasn’t scared to tell the world he was seeing her.
“You know what I heard…” Sarah’s voice trailed off as the car came to a stop, and the music faded suddenly. “Garrett?” Her voice was charged with concern, and he heard the distant click of the seatbelt and opening of the door. A gust of warm air blew through the car as she swung his door open.
His eyes fluttered open and he looked at Sarah, panic written all over her face. “Sorry,” he slurred. “Thought I’d take a quick nap.”
“You looked dead back here,” she grimaced, swatting his arm. “Your color was all wrong. I was thinking you mighta had alcohol poisoning or something.”
“Ain’t never been that lucky,” Garrett chuckled, lazily climbing out of the car and nearly falling to his knees as he did so. Sarah’s frail arm snaked around his waist, and by some miracle, they made it to the front porch of her late seventies model trailer house.
“You just need to sleep it off,” Sarah said, as they struggled up the steps, the thud of his boots echoing through the holler. They hovered at the front door as she dug out her keys and unlocked the door. She pushed it open, and then froze at the familiar face standing there in the entrance.
“What the hell is he doin’ here?” a familiar voice shouted.
Sarah held up a manicured hand in surrender. “Just let me call his daddy and he’ll be gone. I promise. I couldn’t leave him there at the bar. Beth Young is back in town, and I think he drank a lot more than normal…”
Garrett tried to hang onto the last shred of his consciousness, but before he could throw a hand to defend either one of them, it all went black.
Just like always.