Nolan’s Pov
She was asleep.
Right there on my couch, her head tilted slightly, her fingers curled loosely over her lap, breathing slow and peaceful like she didn’t just walk into the home of a man who drugged her wine.
What the hell have I done?
I kept asking myself. Over and over.
Why?
Why did I do it?
I wasn’t supposed to.
I told myself I just wanted to see her like this—still, calm, soft. I told myself it was harmless. I told myself I wouldn’t do anything beyond watching her.
But even that felt wrong. It was wrong.
I should’ve let her go. I should’ve stopped myself. But I didn’t. And now here I was, standing in front of her, frozen.
Madness.
I bent down, gently picked her up in my arms. She didn’t stir. Her head rested against my chest like it belonged there.
This is wrong,
