The smell of coffee hit me as I walked out of the gym. Sweat still clung to the back of my neck as I pulled my shirt over my head and headed toward the kitchen. It wasn’t even 5:30 am yet, but the usual quiet of the house was quiet in a way it rarely was. It was too quiet.
I walked through the door to the kitchen. Serenya was alone and sitting on the counter a couple feet from the coffee, shoulders drawn in, fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee that looked like it may have gone cold. Her hair was still damp from a shower. The low lighting in the kitchen made the sleepless shadows under her eyes more obvious.
And her neck—resting just above the collar of her sweatshirt—was the pendant necklace I’d given her yesterday.
Something warm and unfamiliar pressed under my sternum before I coul
