The kitchen opened before me, steel and stone softened only by the grey dawn pushing through the massive windows. Adrian stood at the counter with his back to me, sleeves rolled to his forearms, head slightly bowed as he poured water over coffee. He hadn't heard me yet.
I watched him for a moment. His shoulders were held too tight. His spine too straight. The posture of someone who had not slept.
He must have sensed me because his hand stilled before he turned. His eyes moved from my bare feet to the oversized shirt hanging on my frame. Something tightened in his expression before it smoothed over, but the tension stayed in his jaw.
"You're awake," he said. Quiet. Not soft.
"Yes. A little while ago."
"Sit." He turned back to the counter. "You shouldn't be standing."
I climbed onto a
