Grace
I woke up at two in the morning with my throat dry and a persistent thirst I couldn't shake.
The third floor was quiet as I stepped out of my bedroom, but as I walked past the landing toward the stairs, I noticed the door to the home office right next to Mason's master bedroom was propped half-open.
A sharp wedge of golden light cut across the hallway, accompanied by the faint, rhythmic clacking of a keyboard. I hadn't expected him to be up, let alone working this late.
I headed downstairs to the kitchen anyway, filled a glass, and drank half of it standing by the dark island.
I finished the rest of the water, set the glass down near the sink, and stood there in the dark for a second. The quiet tapping upstairs hadn't stopped. Curiosity got the better of me.
Leaving the kitchen
