Later that night, long after the pack house had gone quiet, Kai sat at the edge with his bare feet dangling in the water, a half-full glass of red wine perched in the hollow between his thighs.
The moon was directly above, white and swollen, and every time Kai shifted his weight, the pool threw the light back at him in a new way—first a scatter, then a line, then a trembling disk that made it look like the moon was winking from the bottom of the deep end.
He hadn't meant to stay out here so late. He'd told himself he would take a few minutes to clear his head, go for a quick walk, maybe knock back a glass and call it a night. Instead, he had not moved for over an hour, and the bottle by his side was almost empty.
