Sam.
Sam reminded Winn of his grandfather—stern, wise, loving, irritatingly intuitive. A man who could scold you and hug you in the same breath without blinking.
Winn dialed.
"Hey, Sam. You in for a game of golf?"
A beat.
"…Great."
"You want me to pick you up?"
Another beat and a warm rumble of a chuckle.
"Great."
He hung up and dropped into the driver's seat of his car, letting out a rough groan as he rested his head against the steering wheel. What the fuck was he doing? Who ran to their girlfriend's grandfather for comfort? What kind of man did that?
A desperate, exhausted, guilt-ridden one, apparently.
In his defense, Sam was an amazing man.
*****
"I'm not letting you go, Dad!" Evans shouted.
"What are you going to do? Nail me in a coffin?"
"Don't tempt me," Evans snapped, pacing. "Dad, can you not see that they are all the same? I gave Winn the benefit of the doubt, and look what he did?"
Sam blinked slowly, unimpressed with the theatrics. "What did he do?"
