11
Oblivion never came. Ian had flipped and flopped on the bed, strangled his pillow, guzzled more whiskey, and counted sheep until they blurred together, but nothing allowed him sleep.
He stood and paced the hut, wondering what he should do. He knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew what he shouldn’t do. Unfortunately, they were the same thing. But he could at least check on Gwen and make sure she was okay. He didn’t see how he could sleep if he didn’t.
He quickly dressed and slipped on his boots. After grabbing a flashlight and shotgun, he left and made his way to the office. Half of him was sure she’d be gone, and the other half prayed that she would still be there. If his brothers ever found out how far he had fallen for a woman who would rather rob him blind, they’d hold that
