When Caleb reached Autumn’s house, the lights were already dim. She was asleep.
He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration knotting in his chest. Instead of lying down, he sank into the chair beside the bed, elbows resting on his knees.
What did I do wrong? Did I push her too far?
The house was quiet, the kind of silence that made thoughts louder. Sometime between regret and exhaustion, his eyes closed.
When he woke, warmth wrapped around him.
Caleb stiffened.
A blanket lay draped over his shoulders—soft, familiar, soaked in her scent.
Autumn!
She placed it around me? But when and how? I wake up in every tiny movement around me. How could I not notice it?
His eyes flew open. His heart thudded hard against his ribs. She came here? When?
He never slept through movement. Never.
