When Jake woke up a second time, he felt a little better. His head no longer felt as if it were caught in a vise, but pain still pierced behind his eyes and, when he rolled over, his stomach churned nauseously. He couldn’t remember when he last ate—there couldn’t be much in his belly if he threw up—but he’d rather not puke first thing in the morning. Or rather, early afternoon, judging from the way the light filtered through the gap in his curtains.
What time was it anyway?
He fumbled on the bedside table for his phone and remembered it was missing. Probably somewhere on the floor, under his clothes or in the back pocket of his jeans. Or in Holly’s purse. Had he asked her to hold it for him? He couldn’t quite remember…
But moving had jostled his bladder, and suddenly he had to piss. The
