Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Damon
I pulled my phone off the charger and held it up, the light
hurting my tired eyes as I looked at all the notifications that
had slowly woken me up over the last half hour.
Fuckin’ Will.
Missed calls, texts, pictures… He was having the time of
his life in Rio.
Or Cartagena. I forgot.
Him on the beach. Him with what’s-her-name. Him in the
sun and sand, not freezing his ass off back here in Thunder
Bay in January. Eating good food and laughing.
In the nearly three months since Devil’s Night, we’d gotten
him clean but not dry, and as Kai, Michael, and I settled into
the holidays, our homes, our women, and our work, he broke
away and did some traveling. He said he needed a change of
scenery, but he’d been gone a while, and although the pictures
looked great, and he looked happy, I knew he was spinning
and spinning until he eventually lost his balance and fell.
And, at twenty-four, his family would only tolerate the
self-destruction for so much longer before they cut him off and
made him come home.
Throwing the sheet off, I grabbed some sleep pants and
pulled them on, dialing Will.