“Are you sure the pub is the best place for you right now?” Emily glanced at The Eagle’s white-lettered sign above the awning and espied the makeshift repair that someone had done to the front glass. Crisscrossed wooden boards and already peeling duct tape seemed to be holding it together.
Fletcher propped opened the front door with his backside so she could enter past him. “My brain feels like scrambled eggs. I need to do something that’ll make me feel normal.”
something She flexed her lips and nodded in quasi-understanding. “And drinking constitutes as normal in your world, eh?”
He let the door close behind them and led her to the bar. “Not being alone in my head, where all the hell seems to live, constitutes as normal.”
“So, this is just a distraction. A band-aid for the real issues
