Oliver
“Well that was a f*****g mess,” Ace mutters as we finally crawl into bed.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, staring up at the ceiling as the house settles into its late-night quiet. The echoes of dinner still cling to me the tension, the silence, the barely restrained fury rolling off my father like heat off asphalt.
It should bother me more than it does.
But it doesn’t.
Because she’s here.
Sophia curls into my side as if drawn there by instinct, her body fitting against mine with a familiarity that still catches me off guard. The bond hums softly between us, warm and alive, no longer tentative. It doesn’t ask anymore, it knows.
Dinner had been unbearable at first. Every clink of cutlery too loud, every breath measured. David had sat rigid, jaw clenched so
