Morning light filtered through the thin curtains like a reluctant apology. My body protested the moment I tried to move—ribs stiff and bruised, shoulder tight from Kane’s hits, every muscle screaming from the scrimmage. But the real ache wasn’t physical. It lived in the silence that had followed those sounds through the wall last night. Caleb’s low groan. My name on his lips. The way the house itself had seemed to hold its breath with us.
I lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, the thin wall between our rooms feeling both too close and impossibly far. Sleep had come in fragments, broken by dreams of glass rattling, Lila’s stretcher, and Caleb’s hand hovering just short of my face. I finally forced myself up, wincing as I pulled on clean compression leggings and a loose team
