As I lay in bed that night, my hands clasped behind my head, staring up into the darkness, sleep evades me. My mother’s words about Ryker spin round and round in my head, he always works on Christmas day . . . I was so surprised when he asked to come for the day . . . it feels like he needs to be out there . . .
I roll over, picking up my cell phone from beside my bed and lighting up the screen, it’s just after two in the morning. I fall onto my back again, the phone pressed to my chest, questions swirling through my mind. It’s to early to text, though he said that I could text any time . . .
I drop my hand, still holding the phone to my side, blowing out a breath, I should be asleep, I’m sure mum has a jam-packed itinerary of things that we will be doing tomorrow and she’s an early rise
