Callie
Morning light crept in through the blinds. I woke slowly, listening.
The house was quiet in a way that meant no one was rushing anywhere. No drawers slamming. No music blaring.
I stayed in bed longer than I meant to. I told myself it was because I was warm under the covers not because I was thinking about last night, about him. About the way he’d stood too close in the hallway, touched my hair and told me to keep my door locked.
He hadn’t meant it in a sweet way. It wasn’t protective in the traditional sense, it was territorial.
When I finally went downstairs, he was already in the kitchen. No shirt this time either but his back was to me, muscles shifting as he reached for something in the cabinet.
“Morning,” I said, keeping my voice light.
He glanced over his shoulder, ey
