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Cutter had to believe she’d make the right decision. Otherwise, the ache pulsing in his chest would become a permanent companion. On his way home, he made a pit stop for two bottles of whiskey and then locked himself inside his house to wait.
Swinging the bottle to his lips, he guzzled it down until the burn mixed with the acid already churning in his gut. Spine plastered against the shut door, he promptly slid down to the ground and hung his head between his knees. The only time he lifted it was to fit the bottle to his lips. The ringtone for Kingdom went off, cutting off his swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and reached for his cell. “What do you want?”
“Where the f**k are you?”
“Home. What’s up?”
“Sage is blowing up my phone. You left Greta in Camden?”
“Yeah
