Portia
I wake to the smell of coffee. I move, rolling onto my side, but wince and stop as soon as l do. I remember instantly why I'm sore. Everything that happened comes flooding back to me at once.
"Good morning," Callahan says. I open my eyes. Deep orange light, the first light of morning, filters into the room washing it in its warm glow. I watch Callahan get to his feet from the armchair he was sitting on. His clothes look rumpled, his hair like he's been running his hands through it all night.
I'm back on the island. Back in his room. In his bed.
"Morning," I say, slow to push myself up to a seat.
"Easy." He's by my side in an instant, lifting me gently.
I suck in a breath and he draws back. Even the lightest touch hurts.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"It's okay."
He adjusts the pill
