His head dropped and he jerked it up, eyes wide to force himself awake. Matt was definitely driving home—he’d ridden in with Roxie, which meant his Jag was still at the gym, and Vic didn’t think he’d mind taking the keys to Vic’s battered Toyota. But he was too tired to mention it, too tired to even really think it, and let his head drop back.
Matt noticed and nudged him. “You hanging in there?”
Vic nodded as he sat up. “I’m here.”
Yet by the third inning, when his chin fell to his chest a second time, he didn’t bother to jolt awake. His muscles ached, his groin throbbed, and the hand that held Matt’s went limp as he dropped into a fitful doze. If he dreamed, he didn’t know it. No time seemed to pass after his eyes shut before Matt was shaking him again. With a start, Vic asked, “What?”
