Aria’s POV
Kieran is still on the floor when I wake up.
Sitting. Back against the wall. Head tipped forward. Dead asleep.
And still between the boys and the door.
He didn’t move all night.
His neck is going to hate him. Doctor in me catalogues it: cervical strain, probable headache, definitely stiff shoulders. King of North America, taken out by hardwood floors.
I should laugh.
I don’t.
Because Kai is asleep in his bed, one hand dangling off the side, fingers two inches from Kieran’s shoulder. Like he reached for him in the night.
And Kade… Kade migrated.
He’s not in his bed.
He’s in Kieran’s lap. Curled up, Mr. Woof squished between them, small hand fisted in Kieran’s Henley.
And Kieran’s arms — both of them — are around him. Loose. Protective. Instinct
