He squinted against the sunlight streaming through his window shade, cringing when his skull throbbed in tandem with his stomach. Every little sound rattled his brain, the whoosh of forced air through the ceiling vents louder than an ocean’s roar. He pressed the heels of his hands over his scratchy eyes in an effort to block out the stimuli. God damn, he couldn’t drink like he used to. When had he turned into such a lightweight? Once he adjusted to the harsh light, he turned his head on the pillow and glanced at his nightstand, where a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels distorted the alarm clock’s red glow. He shoved the bottle aside and struck an object with a faint clink. Propping on one elbow, Colt peered closer to investigate and immediately wished he hadn’t. Because for a few fleeting seconds, he’d managed to forget the reason he’d taken a bottle to bed in the first place. Mocking him from atop the snooze button was Leah’s ring, the one he’d never given her.
