Peter’s gone.
The thought makes his eyes tear up and they sting in the cold. Wiping a hand brusquely across them, Jory thrusts one leg forward, then the next, in an effort to reach his porch. His momentum carries him up the steps to the door, but when he reaches into his pocket for the keys, he pulls out Peter’s cross instead.
Nowthe tears fall, and there’s little he can do to stop them. He closes his hand into a fist around the cross, feeling the metal arms bite into his flesh. The moment he enters the house, it all becomes real. Peter won’t be there waiting, the bed will be empty and lonely. Jory will be so alone
With a shuddery breath, Jory digs out his keys and unlocks the front door. He pushes it open to stare into the darkened foyer—he forgot to leave a light on when he left, and there’s no one to turn it on for him any more. No one…