EZEKIEL’S POV

The morning light cut through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the unfamiliar ceiling. For a second, I didn’t move. My head was pounding, a dull ache sitting right behind my eyes from all the whiskey I’d drowned myself in last night. The air smelled faintly of coffee and soap, Drew’s place.

Again.

I turned on my side and saw the empty space beside me, the dent on the pillow still warm where I’d passed out. My jacket hung carelessly over the chair, my phone ...