I don’t sleep that night. I try. At least long enough to lie still in the dark and pretend that closing my eyes might quiet the steady loop of thoughts refusing to settle. But it doesn’t take long to realize it’s pointless.
Every time I get close to drifting off to sleep, the same pieces come back into focus. The woods, the eyes in the dark, Asher’s voice, and the word that refuses to lose its weight no matter how many times I turn it over.
Mate.
By the time the sky starts to lighten, I’m already sitting up and staring at the window like the answer might be waiting somewhere out there. I feel like I might see it if I look long enough. But all I get is the familiar outline of junipers and mountain maples. The faint glow of morning filters through them, soft and deceptively calm.
Nothing
