No Hot Water Harley Dean ((new)) -

He stands there, shivering, letting the ice wash over his head, down his back, over the scar on his ribs from a stage dive gone wrong in ’97. The cold doesn’t kill him. It just wakes him up.

He sinks down onto the closed toilet lid, head in his hands. The cold tap still runs. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Harley clears his throat. “Maggie? It’s… it’s Dad.” no hot water harley dean

The last time he had hot water—truly hot, scalding, life-affirming water—was the morning of his daughter’s high school graduation. He showed up drunk. She didn’t speak to him after. That was seven years ago.

He wakes with a start, mouth tasting like a burned circuit board. The hangover isn’t a headache; it’s a full-body reckoning. He stands there, shivering, letting the ice wash

The same face. Same gray stubble. Same vein.

He rips the shower curtain back, half the rings snapping off. He turns the sink on. Cold. He holds his hands under the stream, then splashes his face. The shock of it forces a gasp from his chest. He sinks down onto the closed toilet lid, head in his hands

No Hot Water, Harley Dean