Rain's POV:
My eyes flutter open, the dark room barely letting me see past the gloom itself.
Shadows stack on shadows.
The last trace of warmth has slipped away, leaving only the faint outline of furniture and the cold hush of night.
The dried embers in the fireplace lie there, painfully dull.
A gray crumble of what used to be flame.
I turn around to see him.
The book is pressed against his bare chest, one big hand loosely holding it there like he fell asleep mid-sentence.
His breathing is steady, slow.
A faint frown sits between his sharp brows, carved there like worry followed him into his sleep.
I lift my hand and press my fingers gently to that little crease, smoothing it out, trying to erase it out.
It springs right back.
A fresh wave of pain rolls through me.
It crawls from my stomach down into my hips and back again, the kind that steals breaths.
For one second, I want to rip the tubes out, tear everything off, do anything to stop it.
