Without Blackthorn Holdings, I still have a decent nest egg—enough to escape back to San Diego or Scottsdale or maybe the dark side of the moon.
Wherever the Blackthorn name means nothing.
Hell, I could start my own venture without needing much outside capital.
Margot was never sold on me taking over the company after Gramps died. She always thought I could do something else with my life.
Here’s my chance.
I lean back in my seat, swirling my drink before I take a sip.
There’s nothing obvious beyond my next buzz, and that’s the problem.
Nothing but a black hole of possibilities.
But I’m not thinking straight.
Not yet.
In a matter of days, my life ended and the ground crumbled under my feet.
Do I have enough left to care about building a career? A future?
I finish the bourbon, feeling the fire sweeping through my gut.
Dad passed on his love of good scotch and bourbon. One of the few things he did, considering we’re complete strangers genetically.
My lips curl sourly.
Why must human beings be so fucking complicated?
Ares lifts his head from his place on the rug in front of the fireplace and whines.
It’s like he can read my thoughts. His ears perk hopefully.
Now that I’m officially an outcast, I’ve gone full hermit. We’re holed up in this little cabin just outside Portland while I plot my next move.
It’s secluded enough to spend my days walking the dog and forgetting the world. The quiet nights among the tall trees and the glittering shore below the hills are for getting shit-faced drunk and forgetting the Ethan Blackthorn I’ve been.
At least, fortrying.
Only, forgetting isn’t nearly as easy as I thought.
Not when you’re haunted by a thousand regrets and the sad face of one beautiful woman no drink can banish from my mind.
“You still miss her?” I ask the basset hound, my voice slurred. The sound might shock me if I were sober, but I’m not. “I’m over it, boy. It wasn’t even real.”
Another huge face-eating lie.
Another reason I had to move the hell out of my own house.
As big as the place is, I knew every room would still smell like Pages.
Every surface would glow with faded passion, the unwelcome memories of me bending her over them.
When I came back inside, I expected to find her there, staring at the remnants of glass on the floor with horror and dismay.
But no, after dragging myself in from the storm sometime after sunrise, she was gone.
