Rain.
The silence is heavy when I wake up. For a brief second as the haze of sleep slowly lifts, the loud sound of a car crash echoes in the quiet of my bedroom.
I bolt upright, blinking in the sun before realizing it was just a dream. With a sigh, I fall back onto my bed.
My hair is tangled and my muscles are sore and aching all over from days nursing Colt back to health and nights spent half-sleeping on the sofa before I finally crawl into bed.
But no matter how tired I am, I find the strength to get out of bed.
“Colt?” I call out as usual, my voice raspy and thin.
No answer.
I pad out of my room, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood, expecting to find him asleep in the guest room or perhaps struggling to use the bathroom with his sling.
Instead, the guest room is empty when I
