Alex woke up sore.
Every shift of his body reminded him of the apartment—the couch, the bruises blooming on his hips, the way Troy had held him down and made him say the words again while he was still shaking. He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time before he forced himself to stand.
The house was already awake. When he came downstairs, Troy was leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee in one hand and his car keys in the other. He looked rested. Calm. Like the night before had settled something in him instead of breaking it open.
“Ready?” Troy asked.
Alex nodded. He didn’t trust his voice yet.
Bridget was at the stove. Silas had already left for an early meeting. The normal morning sounds felt too loud. Troy waited until Alex had taken a single sip of coffee, then set h
