Sloth Read Online Free PDF

keys, and it was too far to walk—especially when everything already felt so sore. Maybe it would be enough to stand outside, breathe some of that fresh air everyone always claimed was so helpful. She could wait it out. Maybe, eventually, she’d be able to go back inside.
    Maybe not.
    Harper leaned against the dank brick wall of the bar, not caring about the gunk that would surely rub off on her gauzy white shirt. Her leg hurt, her head hurt, and she needed some support. The wall would have to do.
    “Who let you back out on the streets?” Kane smirked and leaned an arm against the wall, giving Harper a sardonic grin.
    “What’s it to you?”
    “Just need to know who I should complain to,” he teased. She rolled her eyes and turned away—he was sure it was to hide a smile. “Good to see you up and out, Grace.”
    “Miss me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
    “I wouldn’t say that—but you know I’ve got a low tolerance for boredom. And you definitely make things interesting.”
    “Gosh, I’m overwhelmed by your kindness and affection. Is this the part where you hug me and ask me how I’m doing?” Her tone was mocking, but Kane could tell she expected exactly that—and dreaded it.
    Instead, he laughed. “You have been away for a long time,” he said, shaking his head. “Why would I want to know how you’re doing? I just want to know if you’ve got a cigarette.”
    That earned him his first real smile. And a pack ofCamel Reds. He pulled one out, tossed the pack back to her, and took his time lighting up. “So . ..,” he finally said. “Are we going in, or what?”
    She waved lazily toward the entrance. “You go. Say hi to the pep squad for me. And enjoy your ginger ale.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Meaning I’d rather bash my head into this wall than go back inside,” she said bitterly. “But hey, be my guest.”
    “Better idea.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and cocked his head toward the parking lot. Translation: Let’s get out of here and get into some trouble. “ You in?”
    “Let me just text Miranda,” she said, whipping out her cell phone, “and then”—she did some rapid-fire number punching and flicked it shut again—”we’re out of here.”
    She stumbled on the way to the car, and he caught her before she fell; but he resisted the urge to help her inside the silver Camaro. She was back on two feet again—she could do it herself. Or at least, he concluded, she thought she could. He slammed the door shut, started the car, slipped in his favorite CD and turned the pulsing rock beat up to top volume, and they were off.
    Grace was a dead-end town whose residents led dead-end lives—meaning there were plenty of dark, dingy spots where you could drown your sorrows. And none of them carded.
    They ended up nestled in a booth in the back of the Tavern, a nondescript bar and grill for the over-forty set, complete with a washed-out seventies decor and surly, middle-aged waitresses who’d been working there since the decorations were new.
    Privacy guaranteed, or your money back.
    Harper, after downing half a gin and tonic—her first in weeks—was already slurring her words. Kane, more on half-formed instinct than out of any reason or desire, had opted for root beer.
    “When did you join AA?” Harper joked, flopping forward in her chair and propping her head in her hands. “Gonna leave me all alone to drown my sorrows?”
    “Someone’s got to drive you home,” he pointed out as she downed the rest of her drink and waved the waitress over for another one.
    “S’okay I’m used to alone,” she slurred, as if she hadn’t heard him. “I mean, they’re always there, everyone ’s always there, staring at me. Alone is good. They should all go away.”
    “You want me to stop staring at you?”
    She let out a sharp bark of laughter, then slapped her hand over his. “Not you. You’re the only one. You . . .” She stopped talking, distracted by the prospect of fishing the slice of