Greg didn't protest. He staggered to his feet, leaning against Ric's shoulder as they walked to the elevator and up to the hotel suite. The bellboy opened the door for them, and Ric nodded in thanks before leading Greg inside.
Greg collapsed onto the bed, murmuring Cammy's name as his eyes drifted shut. Ric stood there for a moment, just watching. The pain etched across Greg's face in sleep mirrored the ache still reverberating in Ric's own chest—not because of Cammy, but because of the dark question clawing at his conscience.
He walked quietly to the bathroom and grabbed a tissue. Then, with slow, careful fingers, he reached down to where Greg's head rested on the pillow and found a single dark strand of hair tangled near the edge.
Gently, Ric pulled it free.
He wrapped the hair inside the tissue, folded it tightly, and slipped it into the inner pocket of his coat.
His jaw tensed as he stood up and looked at Greg one last time.
"For safe keeping," he whispered to himself.
