Two weeks.
Two weeks.I sighed, squinting against the early evening’s low sun, and clutched the steering wheel in full defensive, maybe-I-shouldn’t-be driving mode. One hand relaxed long enough to signal for Cooper’s Bar.
Because when you’re too exhausted to drive, obviously your destination should be a bar.
The sound of gravel popping beneath my tires drifted through the car’s open windows while the white noise from the nearest major street gradually subsided. Dappled sun flashed through the trees at the far end of the lot, reflecting off my windshield and making my head ache.
It felt like a lifetime (to the extent my exhausted body was capable of comprehending time), but I’d last been to Cooper’s two weeks ago and I hadn’t even made it inside. It had been even longer since I’d seen my
