Will still reeled from the loss.
And here you are, back in the game all over again.
Before he could dwell on that, the door opened and Corey flashed him a quick grin. He reached for Will’s hand again, whispering, “Come on.”
Will let himself be led into the bedroom. The floor was obscured with clothing and papers; Will couldn’t walk without stepping on something. There was a desk against one wall, the computer monitor on it hidden beneath an old shirt, the chair stacked high with school books. A drab-olive jacket hung from the back of the chair. The closet door was open, displaying a mess of clothes dangling from hangers. Shoes piled up at the foot of a narrow bed on which Bobby sat surrounded by college textbooks, staring at Will.