Ryder:
The smell of coffee hit first.
Then her.
It was like every morning lately—peace I didn’t know I needed until it was mine. Phoenix’s presence, soft but steady, grounding me more than any business deal or profit report ever could.
I stretched, sat up slowly, and caught the faint sound of a pencil dragging across paper. Not just doodling. Focused. Intent.
Curious, I padded down the hall in nothing but sweatpants, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. She didn’t hear me. Didn’t see me, either—she was curled on the edge of my desk chair, knees up under her chin, that sketchpad in her lap, biting her lip as she worked. Eyes sharp, expression unguarded.
She was in it. Wherever she went in her mind when she created—it was beautiful to watch.
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, le
