Always In: The Shore Series Book 2 Read Online Free Page A

This place is a little far off the Sandy Cove map."
    They take their seats next to me, ordering themselves a few cold ones. They keep eyeing each while I sing along who are best described as the three most prolific musical geniuses in all of history. Those three brothers could really write some good lyrics. It's like they're telling my story. Our story. Harlow's and my story. Well, we no longer have a story. I guess...
    Max takes a long, drawn out sip of his beer, glancing up on whatever is on the TV behind the bar.
    "Willow told us she ran into you on the street near Jax. She said you promised you wouldn't follow Harlow."
    Porter interrupts. "We figured you'd know better or best not to go to any of the places on the strip. This is the place we used to come to when we just wanted to get good and drunk. No strings attached."
    I know what he means by no strings attached. That's code for: No Women.
    I motion for the bartender to line up some shots for my pals and me. Porter's my pal again. Thank God. After all that shit went down and he knew that what I did, why I did what I did to break it off with Harlow—that it was for her own good—he understood. He told me I should've gone to him, that he knew how to handle that part of the Hannum family, and maybe I should have. At least that’s what I think happened. It’s hard to tell right now.
    Oh, well.
    I slam back my shot of whatever was the bartender’s choice while Max and Porter's shots still remain in front of them.
    "What's the deal with you two? C'mon. Do those shots. Let's get fucked up."
    As I reach for my whiskey and water Max pulls it away from me.
    "I'll go with the old cliché, my friend; I think you've had enough."
    I give him a warning look and kindly ask for my drink back.
    "I’m not done with that, little man. Give it here."
    When he doesn't, I begin to feel the blood starting to pump through my drunken veins.
    "I said I wasn't finished with that. Actually, I’m not close to being done anytime soon, so my suggestion is for you to give me that glass back so I don't have to hurt you."
    He shakes his head, obviously not afraid of the threat of me knocking that damn mohawk off his head. Fine. I'll play it cool for now. I stroll over to the jukebox again and replay my new theme song. When I hear the eruption of “fuck you’s” and “knock it off's”, I think I’ve played the frigging song a dozen times. The next thing I know, as I turn to begin my rant—a loud one at that—punches are being swung, and my ass is being dragged out the door because no one can appreciate good music these days.
    Max has his one arm around one of mine and Porter around the other. I struggle to get out of their grip, but all that whiskey has made all my muscles feel like jelly and the strength I felt earlier has dissipated. Whiskey will do that to ya.
    They finally let go once we are way out of sight from the dive bar and I sit at a bench near the inlet. Hanging my head between my knees and rubbing at my eyes trying to regain some kind of focus.
    Max yells at me, "That was totally unnecessary, dude! Tell ’em, P. This is all getting way out of hand."
    I don't even answer him. I can't. I know what I’m becoming but it's all I can do to stop the pain. Yes, I said pain. I’m in it. I’m in hell.
    "Cruz, you getting shit faced like this every chance you get isn't going to change a thing."
    I know this already but if I don't feel anything I’m fine. At least I can talk myself into thinking that.
    I get up off the bench, frustrated and bleary eyed, and again, pissed off at the world. Walking over to the edge of the bridge over looking the inlet, I stop and close my eyes. My thoughts immediately going to her and the memory of seeing her tonight. It's not like I don't see her in my mind a thousand times a day, but I was in such close proximity to her today. It's a little harder that I actually saw her in the flesh. I saw the way she carried herself on her crutches. She didn't look