The light crept in slowly.
Not the golden grandeur of palace ballrooms or the sterile glow of political offices, but something softer, sunlight diffused through linen curtains, warm and pale across the bedspread, like it had been told not to disturb.
Lucas blinked once, then again. The familiar ache in his shoulders was gone. His back didn't twinge. The baby monitor on the nightstand hummed softly, reporting nothing but peaceful static and the slow rise of a four-month-old chest in the next room.
And beside him, stretched out on his stomach, limbs sprawled with the careless grace of someone who knew they were allowed to rest after a long storm, was Trevor.
Bare chest and black boxers.
Sleep-tousled black hair.
Long lashes casting shadows against skin just warm enough to make Lucas's mouth go dry for a moment.
