The Hookup by Erin McCarthy

Author:Erin McCarthy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2018-05-08T04:00:00+00:00

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Staying sober the night before with Sophie had been fucking amazing. But by the time I waved to my captain and got off the boat in dock the next day, I was craving booze like nobody’s business. Like an addict. I had the tremor in my hand and while I was pulling up traps with the hydraulic lift I was grateful I wasn’t emptying them. It would have been hell to get the damn bands on them. It was a longer day than I expected but the traps were hot so we stayed out hauling them all in.

Now I was off the boat and headed straight to the bar. Do not pass go. Go directly to jail. The one I had created for myself.

My stool at the Thirsty Moose.

I sank onto it with a sigh and raised my hand to Darryl. He must have just come on duty. It was only five o’clock and it wasn’t busy. Too early for the tourist dinner crowd, too early for drinking.

Unless you were me.

“Rough day?” my cousin asked, pushing a glass over to me.

I sighed, already feeling better just seeing that amber liquid. “No, not really. Just a long one. And I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

His eyebrows rose. “You weren’t in here last night. So it’s not late nights at the bar robbing your sleep. Is it a certain tourist girl?”

For a second I considered denying it. I didn’t want to share Sophie. She was mine. All mine. A sexy little seductive escape from the fucked-up catastrophe of my life. But my cousin had seen me with Sophie. So had Brian. There was no point in denying it. But I didn’t want to share any details. So I just nodded.

“You being nice to her?”

I threw back my whiskey. I was already on edge and his question pissed me off. “No. I’m treating her like shit because she’s one of those girls who likes an asshole.” I was a lot of things. Unreliable. Emotionally detached. Quick to anger. But I was honest with women, and I wasn’t charming, and I didn’t make any promises I couldn’t keep. I had been decent with Sophie. I was pretty damn sure of that.

“You’re a mess,” was Darryl’s opinion.

“Whatever. I make more money than you.” It was a childish thing to say, but probably the truth.

He scoffed. “Dick.” Then he moved down the bar.

I got to thinking about why I was a dick. And I got to thinking about how I had told Sophie about Camp. Shared some of my feelings. She had given me the best possible response. She had been outraged on my behalf but she hadn’t appeared to feel sorry for me. Nothing worse than pity. But she also hadn’t insisted on asking stupid questions like “how did that make you feel?” like one girl had. Like what the fuck? How did it make me feel? Like shit. Like fucking rotten-ass shit baking in the sun in August. Festering, nasty, gruesome, oozing shit.

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