Chapter 28
SAWYER
Thursday night
Theoretically, the blonde I find at the bar tonight to numb my brain and body is damn near perfect. Too bad this liquor isn’t.
The gin burns my tongue more than I thought it would. The taste of that and the tonic I had earlier is bitter on my tongue, and for the four hundredth time since my entire world turned upside down, I wonder just how the hell I’ve allowed myself to get here.
To this point of drunkenness. To hanging on the cusp of becoming that has-been athlete and ruined man I’d never wanted to be.
And if it weren’t for Naomi Silva, I can’t say that any of this would have ever happened.
But I’m one week too late for that. Not to mention minus one shirt.
The anti-Naomi I picked up earlier coos towards me in a molasses-like drawl. She’s sugar,
