15
Vigil
I woke Sunday morning, sore as hell and feeling hungover even though I didn’t have a single beer or shot the day before. I’d put in one hell of a workout, not stopping until I couldn’t raise my damn arms against the heavy bag anymore.
Ryker called me while my coffee brewed with the news that Ricky had left his colors on my desk.
An ache so f*****g overwhelming settled on my chest I had to lay on the kitchen floor, coffee and breakfast forgotten.
“He still there?” I rasped, my eyes clenched shut.
“No. Cleaned out his room and lit out.”
“Fuck.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fuck.”
“Had his bike strapped down in the back of his truck and everything.”
Fucking tears stung my eyes, and I swallowed a few times, refusing to accept the demons whispering about being at fault in
