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Prologue

Hank

April

I have to get the fuck out of here

Yanking ht I have when I walk into my house after Sunday supper I’ nice

Froether doesn’t

I grab a fifth of Appalachian Red whiskey froht from the bottle It burns a trail of fire down my throat

It does nothing to lessen the intense ache inside my chest

Doesn’t stopbefore I set down the bottle and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand

I glance around lass or napkin is out of place Probably because I don’t really live here

Sure, I sleep in the bed every night and get ready in the glea, but otherwise, I’ around the resort

Work has becoirlfriend to see howout on

So fuck it What do I have left to lose? I’ive myself the top spot instead I’ll do what I hen I want to do it

I want to travel

I want to fuck around

I want to meet people who’ve never heard of Blue Mountain

Toet with uest relations Then I’ll get on the phone with ent and book a private jet to—

Where?

As far away as I can get, I guess Thailand? South Africa? Madrid?

All I know is onna heal if I’m anywhere near this place

I can’t stop thinking about how Eht She was lit up Eyes glowing and full, like she was so happy sheabout all the ways they’ll fuck tonight

A slice of searing, urgent pain rips through rab the bottle and drink, and then drink some more

“Hey” I startle at the voice behindat ently takes the bottle fro his arainst the counter “I’”