But the unease didn’t go away.
It lingered—quiet, persistent.
Because somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a feeling he couldn’t shake.
Something happened last night.
And whatever it was… it mattered more than he wanted to admit.
Probably all three.
Topper let out a quiet breath, shaking his head.
“Get it together.”
That’s what he always told himself. Shake it off. Move on. Don’t dig too deep. That’s how things stayed manageable. That’s how everything didn’t spiral into something harder to deal with.-
Topper Thornton woke up with a sharp inhale, like his body forgot how to breathe for a second—and then everything hit at once.
The headache.
The dryness in his throat.
The dull, heavy weight sitting in his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
“…shit.”——-