Carol awoke gradually. By the sound of things, Sam and Gabe were already up, their excited squeals no doubt the result of the small tree Blake had prepared in their bedroom—with a*****e’s worth of toys underneath.
Whispery fingers brushed her collarbone, traced the puckered scar on her shoulder, followed by warm lips. Two months had passed and the wound, although healed, still gave her trouble, random pain, difficulty with mobility, nightmares.
The ordeal was one she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy, but good things had come from it too. Ricardo accompanied her to every therapy session, his presence and support something Carol had come to expect and look forward to, though never took for granted.
Warm lips nipped at her shoulder. Carol grumbled her protest, pulled the covers over her he
