Reynold’s POV
The whiskey burns as it slides down my throat, but it’s not nearly enough to drown out the ache in my chest. I slam the glass onto the counter and signal for another. The bartender, wordless and efficient, refills it without question. I down it just as fast, the warmth spreading through my veins, but the memories refuse to fade.
Daphne’s smile.
Her laughter.
The taste of her lips the last time we kissed.
I scrub a hand down my face. I told her I’d never set foot in this damn place again. Yet, here I am, drinking like I can erase the past.
A voice cuts through the haze.
“I knew I’d find you here. Not that I’m stalking you or anything.”
Thea.
Her voice grates against my ears, and my fingers curl into a fist before I even turn to face her. When I do, she’s standing ther
