Caroline had learned the difference between peace and silence in places that didn't care whether you survived them.
Tonight, her apartment was quiet in a way that should have felt earned. Rain ticked against the window. A kettle clicked off.
Her phone lay on the counter, screen down, close enough that she could reach it without standing.
Thorne moved through her kitchen as if he'd been here long enough to have a map. He didn't ask where things were anymore. He washed his hands, rolled up his sleeves, and started cooking without making it a negotiation.
“You're watching me," he noted, glancing back.
“I'm supervising," Caroline replied with a grin.
His mouth twitched. “I'm terrified."
The exchange should have loosened something in her chest. It almost did. But her attention kept drif
