Callie
The Carter house smelled like freshly brewed coffee and faint traces of cinnamon rolls, a scent that should have felt comforting but instead made my chest tighten. Mia was home today, wandering through the living room with her headphones slung around her neck, laptop open on the sofa, completely absorbed in her work.
Grayson and I moved around the kitchen like dancers in a delicate choreography, both aware of the invisible lines we couldn’t cross. I reached for the sugar jar he’d just picked up, and our fingers brushed.
It was such a small contact, but I felt the jolt ran straight up my arm. I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let my hand stay against his, just for a second longer than necessary. His eyes flicked to mine, a slow, knowing tilt of his mouth that made my stomach twist.
