Something I couldn't quite name, had been building between us ever since the surgery, ever since I first woke up in Dylan’s care. I’d seen the way his eyes lingered on me, how he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
There was always a moment when our gazes would lock, and I’d feel something in the pit of my stomach twist, like we were both standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the other to fall.
I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever this was.
But I also wasn’t sure I could keep ignoring it.
That morning, the house felt different. More silent than usual. I could hear the rustle of his clothes from the other side of the hallway, the soft thud of his boots as he moved around.
It should’ve been comforting. But there was something about the way he moved that
