Sienna

My legs were still shaky when he carried me upstairs.

Not rushed.

Not hungry.

Just… holding me like he finally had the one thing he’d been starving for.

Before we headed upstairs, we had dinner.

Dinner was already waiting on the kitchen counter—takeout he’d ordered hours before I even got there. I didn’t have the strength to pretend I could sit properly, so we ate half-lying on the couch, my head on his chest, still wearing nothing but his sweatshirt because mine was somewhere on the floor.

We talked about nothing and everything—his training, school nonsense, how much he missed me, how scared he’d been these past days. Every...