Tara’s POV

The fourth night felt like the hardest.

I lay in my old bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to the ceiling from when I was thirteen, and listening to the house settle around me. Pipes ticking, the faint hum of the fridge down the hall, my mother’s soft footsteps as she made her last round, checking the doors, the windows, and also checking on me.

My hand rested on my belly, and the baby kicked.

I missed him. Asher.

Not in the aching, needy way everyone always talks about, or just the physical pull, though that was there, but I missed his presence. The weight of...