The hangover has finally retreated from an acute medical emergency down to a dull, manageable throb at the base of my skull.
It took four massive bottles of water, two plates of greasy bacon, a large Big Mac order, and four straight hours of mindless reality television, but my soul has officially re-entered my body.
Jade went down to the guest room an hour ago to finally shower and sleep. I retreated to the master bedroom, propped three heavy pillows against the dark headboard. I have a technical manual on fuel-injection systems resting open on my lap, but I’ve been staring at the exact same diagram of a throttle body for twenty minutes without processing a single word.
When the heavy door creaks open, I look up.
Locke steps into the room. His leather cut is slung over his arm, his bl
