Whiskey Nights and Neon Dreams

<p>The memory of Josiah DeMille has haunted me for close to a decade.</p><p>The way he looked.</p><p>The way he smelled.</p><p>The way his lips felt pressed against mine even when they shouldn't have been.</p><p>The one person I've never been able to get over.</p><p>The one singular part of my past I've never been able to move on from.</p><p>In every lyric sung into the microphone in every chord strummed on the guitar in the bottom of every single whiskey bottle he's there.</p><p>His memory has me in a chokehold.</p><p>His absence a gaping hole in my chest.</p><p>I gave up years ago wondering if I'd ever stop thinking about him.</p><p>Josiah DeMille is the ghost of my past. A past I left behind after my rock bottom.</p><p>Now he's back and he's everything I remember him to be and more.</p><p>As mesmerizing as ever a malt perfectly aged in an oak barrel.</p><p>But there are dark secrets and shameful lies between us blurred lines and an underlying temptation that we've never been able to ignore.</p><p>It's a recipe for disaster an imminent train wreck.</p><p>Where will we sit once the dust settles and the truth comes out?</p>