An envelope sailed over my head and landed on the bar. It hit the old wood with a thwack, my name scrawled on the wrinkled brown paper in the chaotic handwriting I knew to be Nash’s. Then I felt him. That heat at the base of my spine. The warmth in my chest that scared me so much more than wanting to bang his pretty brains out did. He appeared beside me like a phantom hug, a tired grin lighting his face.
