Chapter 1
Father Weston Scott wasn’t sure if this was his fourth or fifth pint. He wasn’t quite tipsy, but his friend, Mark Goudy, didn’t let even a minute pass between rounds. Before the amber liquid was gone from his glass, Mark was on his feet and waving down another two pints. Weston probably should have put a stop to it—or at least insisted that he pay for a few—but he was having too much fun. He didn’t get a chance to see his friend often, and he was determined to simply enjoy himself and the memories between them.
The heavy ring he wore on his right hand clinked against the glass as he accepted the fresh beer from Mark, and it was audible even in the dull roar of the pub. Mark’s eyes were drawn to Weston’s finger, and he frowned slightly.
“I can’t believe you still wear that thin
