Erica
The door clicked shut behind us and something about that sound — small, final — made my shoulders drop for the first time all day.
The room was tiny. One bed, one window, curtains that actually closed properly. Tyler had to angle himself slightly under the low part of the ceiling near the wardrobe, which he did without thinking, the way he always adjusted himself to whatever space he was in. Six foot three and he never made a room feel crowded. Just — full. Present.
He turned from locking the door and looked at me.
I could see the day on him. In his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, in the way he was holding himself like something that had been wound too tight for too long. He looked at me the way he did sometimes when he was trying to work out what I needed before asking.
"Eri
