He flinched slightly, then slowly turned his head, his eyes avoiding mine as he focused on the green glass in my hand. He rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders curved forward in a way that made him look completely drained.
“My back is just acting up again, Carrie, go back to sleep.” His voice had that slow, low register that usually calmed me, but tonight it felt like a shield.
“The couch is more comfortable when it gets like this,” he added, gesturing vaguely toward the dark living room.
“You could have taken the extra pillows,” I said, my breath coming in a quick, shallow rush. “I could have helped you stretch, or brought you the heating pad from the bathroom.”
“No need to wake up for this,” he said, turning back to the window, his profile dark against the glass. “Go on back to bed, Carrie. I will be fine in a little while.”
Last Updated on July 28, 2026 by
I swallowed the cold water, but the tightness in my throat remained. His gaze never rose to meet mine, staying fixed on the dark backyard.
By three in the morning, the house had grown even colder. I stood in the doorway of Emma’s bedroom, guided by the soft, metallic glow of her silver nightlight.
