24
WHITTON
Eve was my girlfriend.
Mine.
All mine.
On Monday morning, I was still on a high from the weekend away while I drove West and Harley to Ransom Canyon for the annual Wright barbecue at Jensen’s lake house. Eve would be there later in the day after she finished the showing she had with a couple who had come into Lubbock for the weekend to look for houses for when they moved here at the end of the year. She hadn’t been happy about not driving in with me. Frankly, I wasn’t either, but I understood her work mentality. She rarely took a break and giving up a whole weekend to Midland had been a lot for her.
For my girlfriend.
Another smile hit my lips, undeterred.
“So, like, are you going to talk about it?” Harley asked from the backseat.
“Talk about what?” I asked.
West snort
