Chapter 4
Brock sighed. It was too fuckin’ warm, but he couldn’t afford to switch on the window AC units.
So take off the sweatshirt, dumbass! the voice in his head told him.
Reluctantly Brock raised the hem of the garment and pulled it over his head. Immediately he felt cooler, as what air there was drifting through the house caressed his naked chest. Folding Calvin’s sweatshirt over the back of a kitchen chair, Brock eyed the pile of dirty dishes with distaste, but knew he couldn’t put off the unpleasant chore any longer.
Turning on the faucet, Brock waited until the water started to run hot. Adding dish soap, he began to scale the mountain.
The phone in the hallway rang. Fearing it would be the hospital’s debt collectors, Brock paused, hands still in the sudsy water.
Or maybe
