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The faster I got home and into my pajamas with a bowl of ice cream, the faster this day would be over.

But instead of going home, I found myself at Butch’s Place. This was new for me, and I expected Butch to question why I was there. He didn’t. He simply hugged me when I walked in and placed a beer and a shot in front of me. This time I wouldn’t let myself get shit-faced.

“You want to talk about it?” Butch asked.

“Not really.”

He nodded.

“You know he would want you to move on, Morgan. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

“I have moved on, Butch. I dated Rich for a while.”

Butch laughed. “Okay, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Rolling my eyes, I picked up the shot and downed it. It burned my throat but warmed my entire body.

“This isn’t about Mike. I mean, maybe it is. Why can’t I seem to keep the men in my life happy?”

“Morgan.”

“It’s true.”

“He was my son, and I miss him every day. But Morgan, you deserve better. You deserve to stop feeling guilty for his death. It wasn’t your fault.”

My chin quivered. Before I opened my mouth to reply, the air in the bar changed. My body tingled everywhere, and I knew . . . I knew it was Blake who had walked in.

“What brings you here.”

I stilled as he sat down next to me.

Butch rapped on the bar with his knuckles. “Blake, the usual?”

He shook his head. “No, Butch. I need something stronger.”

The old man raised his brows. “Stronger?”

“Yes. Make it a goddamn triple.”

Turning to look at him, I stared in disbelief. He looked like shit. Like he hadn’t slept in days.

He glared at me. “This is supposed to be my place.”

“Your place?” I asked.

“Yeah, Morgan. The place I go to get shit-faced and drown my sorrows without worrying about anyone judging me. You’ve invaded it.”

I laughed. “Maybe you should find another place.”

“Why are you here? Butch said you’re only here once a year when . . .”

His voice trailed off, and he had the decency to look sorry for what he was about to say.

Butch placed four shot glasses down in front of Blake and filled them up. Blake picked up each one and downed them one after another. When he got to the last, he shook his head.

“Damn, Butch.”

His voice sounded strained, and his face was red.

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