I woke slowly.
Not because the room was noisy.
Because it wasn’t.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The quiet.
Deep. Complete. The kind that only exists in houses that have decided the world outside can wait its turn.
Then warmth.
Blankets. Soft sheets. The faint scent of cedar and smoke and something darker that had become impossible not to associate with him.
Kade.
My eyes opened.
Gray morning light spilled softly through the curtains, turning the room silver at the edges. For one suspended second, I didn’t move.
Because the chair by the window was still occupied.
He was still there.
Not asleep exactly. Not fully awake either. One arm resting over the side of the chair, head tipped slightly back, dark hair a little undone, the first pale light of morning catching along the
