BECKETT
I made her f*****g cry.
Again.
Damn, is that my specialty now?
Beckett Langley: Olympic gold medalist in breaking Ashley Brooke’s f*****g heart.
Someone give me a trophy. Hell, throw a parade.
“Hey, champ! One more beer here!” I shout, loud enough that half the bar looks over, and I don’t care. I’m already three drinks deep and sliding into something worse. Something numb.
The bartender raises a brow. “You sure?”
Am I?
No.
Do I nod anyway?
Yeah.
He slides it down and I catch it with my fingers drinking the whole damn thing in one go.
“That’s refreshing,” I mutter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Another one.”
“Dude—” The bartender glances at the other guy behind the bar. “You’re cut off after this.”
“Another one,” I repeat, shoving the empty toward him
