When we make it to the room, I collapse onto the sofa, completely drained. Aspen, my giant fluffy white shadow, immediately hops up and flops on top of me like I’m a mattress built just for him. His head lands on my shoulder with a soft huff that makes Caden chuckle beside me. I grin, even as my lungs are crushed under the weight of a one-hundred-pound arctic wolf who thinks he’s a lapdog.
I just wrap my arms around his thick fur and hug him, burying my face into his neck as he licks my cheek. He doesn’t leave my side—not even my knee. He seems to know that my body hasn’t caught up with my soul yet, that I still feel cracked open from everything we’ve survived. Aspen is the glue, soft and quiet and ever-present.
Dad walks in and just shakes his head like he always does when he sees me ta
