Tom's hair was curled and mussed from sleep. The only thing wild about him like that. His face remained untroubled, unclouded, relaxed. His arms and legs looked almost lanky as he hung off the couch. One hand on his heart, the other dangling, fingers brushing the cool floor.
I sipped on my water, a poor substitute for coffee. Spending my recent mornings with Jared, I'd grown accustomed to rising early and supplementing my energy with a pot of drip coffee. When I rose early this morning, I'd planned on much of the same but after tiptoeing down the hall and seeing Tom still collapsed on the couch I couldn't bear to wake him. I couldn't pull him out of his serene state. He deserved whatever calm, whatever peace he was feeling right now. At least that's what I told myself as I sat at my count
