Stefan was woken by the phone ringing.
Groaning, he unglued bleary eyes and squinted at the ceiling. The damp patch wobbled and swayed. His head was pounding, and every muscle hurt.
The phone was still ringing.
“s**t,” he mumbled. His tongue felt furry. When he groped for the mobile, his hand knocked over the empty bottles that had finally stopped the tears, the thoughts, and sent him to sleep.
He couldn’t find it.
“f**k’s sake…”
He rolled. So did his stomach. Swallowing convulsively, he finally closed his fingers over the cool plastic case, and answered.
“‘Lo?”
“Morning.”
Daz’s voice was a low rumble that rattled at the solid lump of pain between Stefan’s ears.
“Did I wake you?”
“Yes,” Stefan mumbled sleepily.
“Keep waking. Meet me at the cafe at twelve. Don’t be late.”
“But—
