The night after her father’s call, sleep didn’t come easily to Angel.
She lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft hush of the ocean in the distance and the quiet breathing beside her. Dean had fallen asleep with one arm draped protectively across her waist, as if even in sleep he was guarding her from things he couldn’t see.
But her mind wouldn’t stop.
Her father’s voice kept replaying.
I’m proud of you.
Three simple words.
Words she had waited years to hear.
And yet, they didn’t bring the peace she expected. They brought confusion. Old hurt—questions she didn’t know how to answer.
She turned slightly, careful not to wake Dean, and watched him sleep.
In the soft light, he looked younger. Less guarded. The sharp lines of control and responsibility faded away. This w
