Chapter 35: Disaster
Just before dawn, when the night’s sky is still pitch-black because of Edwin’s rampage, Trent suggests we have a drink. “We need something strong, Storm. What do you think?”
“Maybe a little whiskey will help us sleep.”
“Have we really been up all night?”
We have, unable to sleep through the storm because of anxiety or the fun we had while having s*x. “I’ll get a shot glass and a bottle of Jack.”
“Just bring the bottle of Jack,” he suggests, sprawled over the mattress.
I keep bottles of liquor in the kitchen, above the refrigerator. I know there is Grey Goose, Jack Daniels, Aultmore, Booth’s London Dry gin, and Captain Morgan rum. On my way out of the bedroom, down the narrow hallway and past the guest bedroom and bathroom, the wind rips against the bungalow’s ext
