Winter’s POV
I pulled into Damon’s driveway, the midday sun reflecting off his clean windows. The house, with its neutral tones and manicured lawn, looked as calm as ever, but inside, I knew things would be far from it. Carrying my bag, I walked up to the front door and knocked. It swung open almost immediately. Damon stood there, leaning on his crutches, his expression somewhere between amused and annoyed. “You’re late,” he said, one eyebrow arched.
I blinked, checking my watch. “It’s 12:01. Today's session was scheduled for noon.” “Exactly,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “A whole sixty seconds. You’re slacking, Doc.” I rolled my eyes, stepping into the cool interior of the house. “Maybe if you didn’t live halfway across town, I’d be on time. Or,” I added, turning to face him,
