Chapter 68
Colby, already wet, couldn’t get not so; they’d pick up from him running just outside. Jason did not grab his arm, only moved to stand beside him: visible, present, a big broad human-shaped storm-break, or so he hoped. “Hey. More coffee after this? And I’ll rub that knee, if you want.”
“Metaphor, or prelude?” Colby teased back through damp hair. “Either way, yes. One more take, and I’ll take you up on that.”
The clack sounded. The rain sped up. Colby ran off through it.
Up that hill. Boots and grass, and a slick slide of mud slipping down the other side. Brown and grey and green, the world gloomed.
The river sucked branches and dirt into itself, at the bottom of the rise. The side of the hill took in more water.
Colby stopped in the same place, shoving storm-sticky hair out of his eyes. He turned, looking back at the estate, at the home Will would leave behind. He straightened shoulders, shifting weight.