Face pressed against my chest, she moans and grips my shirt, trying to pull herself up. “I drank too much.” I choke down a quiet laugh. “Honey, you drank a saloon.” I lift her in my arms and carry her through the parking lot. When we reach the truck, I gently settle her in the passenger seat. After buckling her seatbelt, I climb in beside her and lower the windows. She sits there, emotionless, blonde hair like a halo around her head. I dig under the seat and find a bottle of Gatorade. I hold it out. “Drink this.”
