Ryan’s POV
Ryan pushed the door open quietly.
The faint sound of breathing met him, slow, uneven, but steady.
Eve was curled on the guest-room bed, one arm draped protectively across her mid-section, the other beneath her cheek. Her lashes cast long shadows against her skin. The tear stains had dried there, delicate and cruel reminders of the hours before.
For a long moment he only watched her.
He didn’t understand the instinct that pulled him closer; he just obeyed it.
He moved to the side of the bed and crouched, studying the fragile calm that had settled over her face. How had it come to this, his wife, sleeping in the same room she had once been banished to? He wondered if she would ever see this house as home again, or if every wall would always whisper of what he’d taken from
