Jullian stretched gingerly as he stepped into his flat, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and cologne. The place was exactly how he had left it, minimalistic, sharp, and undeniably his.
Dark furniture, crisp lines, and a kitchen that looked barely used. He had spent so much time on the move that his home rarely felt lived in. Grace’s presence had made that obvious.
He exhaled, lowering himself carefully onto the couch. The stitches pulled slightly, but at least he wasn’t confined to a hospital bed anymore.
The past week at the Jones residence had been interesting. Grace had made sure he behaved, enforcing rest with a sharp glare and, on more than one occasion, a thrown pillow. Her parents had been surprisingly welcoming, though he suspected James had enjoyed watching Jullian squir
