Ty eyed his fourth shot of whiskey.
This was a bad idea. But, hell, he was full of bad ideas. Like starting things back up with Paisley. Like believing he could protect her. Like thinking he could ever possibly deserve to have her look at him as a hero.
Terrible ideas across the board.
Oh, and he couldn’t forget to add being an insecure asshole and yelling at the woman he loved and essentially calling her stupid for thinking he was anything other than the miserable, broken sack of s**t he was.
Remembering the stunned devastation on her face, he picked up the glass and tossed it back. The shot burned its way down his gullet, but the whiskey didn’t burn nearly as bad as the shame. By his recollection, he needed the rest of the bottle to outrun that. Maybe more. A sketchy place like The R
