Dawn arrives like a reluctant nurse. Quiet and efficient, pretending it doesn’t see the mess. I slip out of Dawson’s bed while the house is still stitched together by sleep. His hand tries to follow mine when I move, fingers curling in the dark like a reflex searching for its anchor. He murmurs my name once, soft, half drowned and then falls back under. For a moment, I envy him. Not the peace, he earns every scrap of it but the fact that his body, finally, has agreed to rest. Mine won’t. The hallway is cool beneath my feet. In the kitchen, the security lights outside smear pale stripes across the floor. Kellan is already awake at the table, coffee untouched, phone in hand. Miles sits across from him with a laptop open, eyes sharp with the kind of fatigue that doesn’t blur, it clarifies. Rowan looks up from the armchair near the window. “You didn’t sleep,” she says, not accusing. Just naming. “No,” I admit. Kellan sets his phone down. “You got a call.” It isn’t a question. I swall
Last Updated : 2026-01-25 Read more