When we finally made it back to the packhouse, dinner was waiting, so I ate what I could before slowly going upstairs to shower and change into comfortable clothes, then flopped on the bed—Asher laughing at me.
I rolled over, trying to ignore him, but it didn’t work when he finished his shower and climbed in beside me, wrapping his arm around my waist.
I woke before the sun, cold forest air seeping through my clothes. My muscles ached, even breathing hurt. Still, something wouldn’t let me stay down. Asher was already awake, crouched by the dying fire, tossing small twigs into it. He looked up as I stirred.
“Morning.” He said softly, his eyes lighting up when they met mine. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a truck ran me over… twice.” I muttered, sitting up. “And then someone stole the spar
