AVA GOBSON’S POV.
I woke up already tense. Awake, in that quiet, awful way where my body knows something is wrong before your mind catches up. My head throbbed faintly, the kind of ache that never fully faded no matter how much I slept. Every muscle felt heavy.
I lay still, staring at the ceiling, counting my breaths. In. Out. Slow. Careful. If I moved too quickly, the panic crept in. If I let my thoughts wander too far, they spiraled.
Damien lay behind me, His arm was wrapped tightly around my waist, forearm locked against my stomach, palms folding strongly against my shirt like I was going to run, His chest pressed into my back, solid and warm, his thigh hooked over my legs to keep me from shifting too far away.
He was deep asleep. I could tell because his breathing wasn’t controlled
