The apartment fell into silence the moment he closed the guest-room door behind him. Not peace. Not calm. The kind of silence sharp enough to carve through bone.
Adrian stood there for a long breath, his hand still wrapped around the doorknob, the faint imprint of her weight still across his arms. Her floral shampoo still clung to his coat. The warmth she'd left on his palms refused to fade. And the longer he stood there, the more that lingering warmth felt like an insult. A reminder. A bruise he couldn't see but couldn't stop pressing.
He hated that.
He hated everything about the way his chest felt too tight, too full, too exposed. As if the simple act of carrying her had moved something in him that he'd spent years keeping still. As if her presence had reached into the part of him he
