Calen’s POVMorrison had sent someone to my dorm early that morning to collect my things. My uniform, my school bag, toiletries, everything I’d need. When the items arrived, neatly packed in a duffel bag, I’d felt a strange mixture of gratitude and unease.Now, standing in the guest room trying to get dressed with one arm in a sling and my ribs screaming with every movement, I understood why Morrison had insisted I stay.“Let me help,” Morrison said from the doorway.I’d been struggling with my shirt for five minutes, unable to lift my injured arm high enough to get it through the sleeve. Pride wanted me to refuse, but practicality won out.“Thanks,” I muttered.Morrison moved into the room with quiet efficiency. His hands were gentle as he helped guide my arm through the sleeve, careful not to jostle my shoulder. He buttoned my shirt for me with steady fingers, then held out my blazer.“I can manage the rest,” I said.“Don’t be stubborn. You’ll hurt yourself more.”He was right. I le
Last Updated : 2026-02-14 Read more