Twenty-Eight
In the morning, I blinked awake and saw Jonas next to me, still asleep. The fan in his cabin rotated on the opposite wall, blowing over my skin every few seconds. Jonas was bathed in the sunlight streaming in from the window behind him. I watched him sleep for a little while, drowsing on and off myself. Then I felt him shift, his hand pressed into the small of my back, a huff of breath over my cheek.
“Good morning,” I whispered. I got a muffled grunt in response. Jonas’s fingers stretched over my back, tugging me closer. When I opened my eyes, his face was pushed into the crevice between our pillows.
I scooted closer and he wrapped an arm around my waist. I lightly ran my nails over his scalp, combing his hair and pushing it to the side so I could see his face. “You were up
