(Jasper's POV)
The whiskey burns going down but it's nothing compared to the fire in my chest. I stare at the amber liquid in my glass, watching it blur and shift like everything else in my life.
Mickey's Bar. My bar. The one place I thought I could escape to when the weight of my mistakes became too much to carry.
But even here, surrounded by strangers and cheap alcohol, I can't outrun what I've done.
"Another one," I tell Mike, sliding my empty glass across the scarred wooden bar.
"Maybe you should slow down—"
"Another one." My voice comes out harsher than I meant. Mike sighs but pours anyway.
The bar is nearly empty. Just me, a couple of regulars nursing their own demons, and the ghosts of my past that follow me everywhere I go.
I used to work here. Back in college, when I was n
