Page 45 of No Rhyme or Riesling

Adam's chest hitched like he wanted to cry again but was using all his strength to hold it back.

John closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then looked up at the urn. “Goodnight, Frank,” he whispered, forcing the words out.

A sob tore out of Adam as the boy grabbed John's arms where they were wrapped around his body, clinging to him like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

And John held Adam as the boy cried himself to sleep.

Chapter 16

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ADAM

ADAM WOKE to silence and stillness, all mixed with a fleeting sense that something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He rubbed his eyes and turned over. The other side of the bed had the sheets neatly folded back while the pillow bore an indent from being slept on.

John.

Adam slowly sat up as his heart began to beat a little faster. John had stayed the night. Had slept in his bed! The man had even saidgoodnightto Adam's dad. Twice! Both when they'd lain down for a nap and when they'd gone to bed for the night. Adam winced. He'd heard the tension in John's voice. The raw pain underlying those few words.

But John had still said it. Had still stayed.

Adam frowned as he scanned his bedroom. The apartment was too quiet. Was John still there? Was Haven still asleep?

What time is it, anyway?

He rubbed his eyes as he looked around for his phone. It lay on the nightstand closest to him, but Adam didn't remember putting it there. John must have done so. Adam tapped on it to wake up the lockscreen. The time flashed and then faded.

Adam gasped. He tapped on it again, staring as the numbers reappeared.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. Adam swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away from the black screen. It was after eleven in the morning, which meant two things. One, Haven was already at work, which explained why the apartment was so silent.

And, two, he'd slept right through his dad's time-of-death.

Adam swung his legs over the side of the bed, bracing himself, waiting for his stomach to react. He sat there for several long minutes, but nothing happened. No racing heart. No shaking hands. No urge to vomit or cry or anything.

Yet he didn't feel numb. If anything, he felt…

Calm.

Aclinksounded from somewhere outside his bedroom. Adam got up and went to use the toilet and wash his hands before he went to investigate. He found John in the kitchen, still in his sleep shorts and a t-shirt, cradling a mug of coffee in both hands.

Adam stared. John wasn't dressed and busy doing something already? That was enough to stop Adam right in his tracks.

John spotted him, giving him a wary smile over the top of his mug. “Hey,” he murmured. “You're up.” John paused, studying Adam's face. “How are you feeling?”

Adam had to think about it. “I don't know,” he admitted.

“Hungover at all?”

Adam shook his head. John had done a good job of sobering him up and getting him hydrated after his nap yesterday, even though Adam pretty much hadn't left his bed. He'd been too weighed down, between feeling groggy and being full of grief and guilt. And a whole host of other feelings that were only just now starting to make sense in his head.

John set his mug aside and gestured at the coffee machine. “I just made another pot.” He paused. “Haven's already gone to work.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Adam crossed the kitchen and took a clean mug that John handed him. “I can't believe you let me sleep in so late.”

John shrugged. “Figured you could use it, considering…”

Adam poured himself some coffee, and after a brief hesitation, added cream and sugar to make it the way he liked it. He took a sip, then shook his head. “I slept right through…” Adam swallowed hard and shook his head again. “Dad died an hour ago, nine years ago today.”

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