FLYNN'S POV
Sienna opened the door before I knocked. Eight weeks of twice weekly visits and she'd learned the sound of my footsteps on the landing. That detail did something to me every time.
She looked exhausted. Not the tired after a long day kind. The kind that lives behind your eyes when you've been carrying something heavy for too long.
I held up the grocery bag. "Orange juice. No pulp."
"You're my favorite person today."
"Just today?"
She almost smiled. "Ask me again after I've had the juice."
I put the groceries away while she made tea. We'd stopped doing the polite dance around each other somewhere around week four. Now it was just two people in a small kitchen, figuring out what they were to each other one Tuesday at a time.
She set a mug in front of me and lowered herself
