Six weeks ago, Chip went through a lot.

He was coerced into assisting his psycho ex girlfriend, who happened to be a hooker, rob one of her clients of $68,000.

A lot of shit went down.

His ex, Liza, ended up shooting the guy and his wife. Some more crazy shit happened, and Chip ended up shooting Liza.

He’d managed to get away with the $68,000 and a car, a gun, a black eye and busted lip. Staged the crime scene so he’d be innocent, but has been laying low just in case.

He’s been winging it since. Taking a road trip from Louisiana Westward, found himself in Texas. Ended up in some desert town off the highway.

To avoid detection from law enforcement, Chip set a rule for himself— travel light. And that doesn’t only apply to belongings. If it’s just him, the easier it is to pack up and run if needed.

He never stays in one town for more than two nights. He’s called crappy roadside motels home for the last six weeks, and hasn’t been doing much to entertain himself during the days. Just planning where he’ll stop next, trying to find a nice spot to start fresh. Settle down, leave his old life behind. Though, the self isolation was mainly just to avoid questions regarding the state of his face.

His injuries were mostly healed now. No more black eye, a small scar beginning to heal on his lower lip. Nothing people would take too much notice of.

So, he decided to treat himself.

There was a small dive bar in the town he was currently staying in. Most of its customers were truckers and local farmers from the looks of it. There was a dart board and a pool table, small makeshift dance floor not too far from the bar.

Chip was still doing his best to avoid any attention. Barely looked up from his whiskey, only spoke to the bartender.

That was until a scent caught his attention.

Cigarettes and… vanilla. It was light but strong, and the only thing so far to pull his gaze away from the oakwood countertop he was seated at.

Good thing, too, because if he hadn’t looked over, he never would’ve seen the pretty girl.

Fuck- he was weak…

He made a promise to himself after Liza that he wouldn’t let pretty faces distract him from what was important. Protecting himself.

But at the same time, one couldn’t hurt, right…? I mean- you were easily the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He knew he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it if he didn’t at least say something.