Vamp : A Small Town Second Chance Romance (Whiskey Dolls Book 6) by Jessica Prince

Author:Jessica Prince [Prince, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jessica Prince Books LLC
Published: 2023-12-10T16:00:00+00:00

16

ALMA

Then

The first thing I did when I stepped through the front door of our apartment was kick off the torturous shoes my demented boss made us wear and let out a satisfied groan. Who the hell ever heard of waitressing in high heels?

He said it was so we could get better tips, but the women on staff knew it was only because he was a disgusting pig who liked to leer at our asses in our short skirts and stiletto heels. Each shift was like torture, but until I started getting callbacks from all the auditions I’d had, I was stuck with that shitty serving job to pay the bills.

“Hey baby,” I called as I hung my purse on the hook I’d installed beside the door and headed for the kitchen. “I’m home.”

I opened the fridge and pulled out the bottle of cheap chardonnay I’d opened the day before and poured myself a glass.

“Roan?” I tried again. When he didn’t answer, I headed for the bedroom. He was sitting on the bed with his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging in his hands. I set my wineglass on the tacky dresser we found in the alley behind the apartment building and rushed to him, dropping to my knees in front of him. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

I got nothing. He remained deathly silent and still. I cupped his cheeks when he wouldn’t look up, tipping his head so I could see his face. When I finally got a look at him, I sucked in a sharp breath at the state of his face and clapped my hands over my mouth in shock. His lip was busted open, dried blood flaking in the corner of his mouth. His cheekbone was split open and swelling below a black eye.

“Oh my god! What the hell happened?”

He shoved up to his feet so fast I nearly tumbled backward onto my butt. “Don’t want to talk about it,” he gritted out as he stormed out of the bedroom. I jogged after him, catching him in the kitchen where he was unscrewing the cap on a bottle of bourbon we kept in the cabinet above the fridge. He pulled down a squat plastic cup and filled it halfway before tossing it back in a couple short gulps and refilling the cup again.

“Roan, honey.” I stepped up beside him, placing my hand on his arm to keep him from shooting back the second dose of bourbon. “Just stop for a second and talk to me. What happened to your face? Who did this to you?”

He set the cup down on the cheap laminate counter with a clunk and braced his palms on either side of it, lowering his head as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Went to see my mom today,” he said in a voice so low it was practically a whisper.

I knew the moment those words left his mouth that this was going to be bad. In the year and a half we’d been together, Roan had shared about the tumultuous relationship between him and his family.

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