Knox:
She was still curled up on the couch when the sun cracked through the blinds.
I’d pulled a blanket over her sometime in the middle of the night. Sat with her until her breathing evened out and the tight grip on my shirt loosened. She passed out somewhere between numb and exhausted—whatever storm had gutted her had left behind wreckage she didn’t have the strength to sweep.
And now I was watching her sleep, jaw tight, heart burning.
She stirred as I poured coffee into a thermos. Her eyes blinked open slow, red-rimmed and cautious. Like she expected to wake up alone. Like she always expected to be left behind.
“You stayed,” she rasped.
I glanced over. “Where else would I be, baby?”
She looked down, fingers smoothing the edge of the blanket like she didn’t believe she deserved th
