I clench my fist. “And I took heed to your warning. I stopped. I truly did. Like I said, I pay a few people for information but I’m not destroying evidence. I’m not falsifying documents for cash.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you stopped, that will reduce your time. But fuck, Car. I thought you were better than this.”
The bartender comes back with four shot glasses and pours whiskey into each one. I snag one and swallow it down before Noah can even grab one.
“What are you going to do?” he asks me.
I shrug. “Fuck if I know.”
“You need to talk to her.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I snort at that as I start to feel hammered from the copious amounts of alcohol I’ve drunk today. I managed to make it through the day without acting like a drunk fool but then called up Noah and had him meet me here. “That’s funny ’cause you’re a detective.”
Noah shakes his head. “I’m going to call Anna. Have her come pick us up and take you home.”
“I think I love her, man. What the hell does that say about me?”
Noah gives me a sad look as he takes out his credit card to pay the bill. “You need to talk to her. That’s the only thing you can do. Explain yourself. Explain how you used to be. Maybe she will change the article.”
“And what if she’s already sent it in?”
“Then you better find a good lawyer.”
I snort and pick up the other shot. Noah joins me this time. My mind is starting to blur. My head a goddamn wreck over everything that is happening.
Anna shows up twenty minutes later and Noah wraps an arm around my shoulder and helps me to her car.
I’m slouched in the back seat. In pain and drunk and stupid. So I make an even worse decision and text Grace.
Carson: I trusted you.
Carson: God, I fucking loved you.
Carson: And you destroyed everything.
I toss my keys on the side table by the door and watch them hit the floor. Then stumble across the living room and down the hall to my bedroom, then collapse in my bed.