Chapter 7
Damian awoke Saturday morning, alone, with the spring sun shining around the sides of the window blinds. Alex’s alarm clock said it was 9:30. Jesus. He usually never slept this late. Early-rising farm habits died hard. Throwing back the blanket, he hauled his butt out of bed.
He found Alex sitting at the small round kitchen table, with wet hair and a clean shave. He was eating buttered toast and reading something on his phone’s screen. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the room, stimulating Damian’s appetite and easing him into a sense of comfort.
Alex looked up. He was wearing glasses. Usually he switched to contacts for daytime, Damian remembered, but apparently he hadn’t done so yet. For the first time in his life, Damian felt a flutter in his stomach at the domestic
