Jake Meyers slid the glass of Jameson over to Rhychard, then leaned on the counter, resting on his forearms. “You doing okay?” he asked Rhychard. “You look like your cat died or something.”
Rhychard took the glass and immediately took a deep swallow. As he lowered it, he said, “You could say something like that.” Rhychard pushed himself away from the bar and exited the main room of Embers for the back deck. Fortunately, the humid evening made the rest of the patrons desire the air conditioning inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
And his guilt.