Eloise
I didn’t sleep.
I lay in bed with my eyes wide open, staring at the faint shadows across the ceiling, listening to the steady, soft breaths of Max as he slept against me. Every time I closed my eyes, the day returned in sharp flashes—Mike’s voice, the crackle of police radios, Damon’s warning that settled like a stone in my chest.
I wanted to cry myself to sleep. God, I wanted to just let it all out, bury my face in the pillow and sob until there was nothing left inside me. But Max was curled in my arms, his tiny body pressed close, his hair brushing my chin. He needed me to be steady more than I needed the relief of tears. So, I stayed still. I kept my arms tight around him, stroking his back every so often, humming under my breath when he shifted.
He was my priority. No matter
