Chapter 2Nick was warm.
Cozily so. Like curled up on the couch in his favorite comforter with the lights down and The Gunfighter flickering on his widescreen warm.
A few moments after he realized how warm he was, the first pain stabbed through his left eyeball.
“Oh, God,” he groaned.
He didn’t need to try very hard to know what caused the agony. Nick remembered all too well opening the bottles of wine, and what led to drinking in the first place. He remembered the rain hitting the windows, how it sounded as it pounded into the roof. He remembered staring out into the darkness, wishing he was anywhere but in the cabin, and there was no way he would ever forget running out to find his car. It had been freezing, and he’d felt like he had been dipped into an ice bath that glued his clothes
