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PROLOGUE
Elliot
Age Sixteen
Red and blue lights flash as I drive up to the scene.
Before I have a chance to get out of the truck, I see her through the rain-speckled window.
She’s lying cold and lifeless on the asphalt as neon lights reflect off her youthful skin.
At the ripe age of sixteen, her life is over. And I’m the one to blame.
I know in this moment that my life is forever changed. I’ll never be the same.
I might as well be dead, because who can live this way? How can I go on when I know I’m responsible for the death of someone’s child?
My vision blurs as the ambulance arrives and a team of paramedics rush to her lifeless body.
They place a white sheet over her small frame, and the last piece of hope inside me dies. I open my door and fall to thedamp pavement, praying that the lightning streaking through the sky will strike me. It should be me, not her.
When her parents arrive at the scene, I fall apart.
I throw up, cry, and throw up some more.
Because I’m a coward, I wrap my arms around my stomach and hobble back to my truck.
Then I drive away. I fucking drive away as her parents kneel next to her limp body, screaming and calling out her name.
That was the night my life ended and hell on earth began.
ONE
Elliot
Present Day
“I’m cutting you off, Elliot.” Adam, my regular bartender, huffs as he swipes my empty glass from the counter.
I run a hand through my disheveled hair, rolling my eyes at his audacity. Besides, I’ve only had five drinks.Maybe six? Or is it seven?
“You’re cuttingmeoff?” I scoff, arching a brow. “I’m your best customer.”
“Exactly,” he chuckles, wiping down the bar with a wet rag. “We want to keep you as a customer, but that won’t happen if you drink yourself to death. You’ve got to start limiting yourself, Elliot.” He braces his hands on the shiny counter, tossing me a serious glare.
“Yeah, yeah,” I croon, exhaling an annoyed breath. “What is it they say? A whiskey a day keeps the doctor away?”
Adam narrows his eyes at me, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Oh, come on,” I continue, playfully slapping my palm down on the bar top. “I’m kidding. Learn how to take a joke.”
He furrows his brows, crossing his arms over his chest, not a hint of amusement in his expression.
“The self-sabotage jokes were funny weeks ago, but they’re getting old now,” he sighs. “You’re here almost every night, and you drink until I have to cut you off. It amazes me that you make it to work every morning,” he scoffs.
I grab the collar of my suit, adjusting the cashmere jacket as a sly grin stretches across my face.
“Not only do I show up on time every day, but I’m the best at what I do,” I smirk. “You see, I’m more than capable of handling my alcohol.”
