AVA

Nicklaus presses a firm kiss against my forehead, lingering like he’s trying to erase the thought before it roots too deep. His hand slips behind my head, keeping me tucked against his chest.

“Don’t do this to yourself now,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with something I can’t quite place. “You’re drained, Ava. I won’t let you dig into old wounds when your body’s begging for peace.”

His thumb traces along my jaw, gentle but deliberate, tilting my face until his eyes catch mine. “Rest first. Eat. Breathe. Let me carry the weight of the past for now.”

Before I can argue, his lips brush my temple, warm...