Chapter 17: Hugs and Cold CoffeeZachary was so f*****g stupid. What the hell had he been thinking? He glanced over his shoulder as he put a disk into the DVD player. John’s eyelids were about to fall shut, but his colour was good, and his breathing regular.
Zachary went into the kitchen. Not until he opened the cupboard to take a cup out did he realise it was Harold’s old china, kept exactly as Harold had kept them. The table and chairs were the same; the fridge was the same. He opened another cupboard—Harold’s things. Hadn’t John brought anything with him? Zachary ran a hand over his hair, unease creeping up his spine.
He took the cup and returned to the living room. John was still fighting to stay awake, and guilt once again washed over Zachary. He was so f*****g stupid.
“You want to
