Some time later, Liam shook himself awake. For a heart-stopping moment, he didn’t know where he was—this sofa, the folding chair before a makeshift vanity, the rolling rack hung with jeans and ripped T-shirts…this wasn’t his room. The light switch is on the wrong wall, Liam, thought randomly. This wasn’t his room.
He heard a doorknob jiggle and stared uncomprehendingly at a door that led to a darkened bathroom on the far side of the room. The door was ajar…who was on the other side playing with the knob? His voice sounded confused and thick with sleep when he called out, “Brody? That you?”
Something hit a door behind him and Liam sat up on the sofa. “Goddamn it,” someone muttered on the other side.
As a key scraped into a lock, the evening came rushing back to Liam. This wasn’t his room
