Morning came in soft gold.
The Appalachian sun crept through half-drawn curtains, painting warmth across rumpled sheets. Outside, mist clung to the mountainsides like something from another world—ethereal, temporary, beautiful in its impermanence. Birds called to each other, their songs filtering through the open window along with the crisp mountain air.
With a slow stirring, Lila was warm and surrounded by the aroma of coffee crisp linen and distinctly Regan. Not just from the previous night but from everything that had been lifted her body ached in that peaceful gratifying manner. the burden of being watchful. The armor of suspicion. She felt like shed fallen asleep rather than just collapsed for the first time in a long time.
She could not stop thinking about what had happened the ni
