Sleep didn't come easily after that night.
Even though Jace held me close, even though the house felt warm and familiar, something inside me wouldn't settle. It was like my mind kept replaying that half-second of fear in the kitchen, over and over again, asking me if what I saw had been real.
By morning, I still didn't have the answer.
But I also didn't want to live in fear especially not now.
So I got dressed slowly, picking one of Jace's soft shirts from his side of the closet, the one that still smelled faintly like his cologne. I brushed my hair back loosely, and when I looked in the mirror, the girl looking back at me felt… tired. Not physically — emotionally. Like my head had been running faster than my body could keep up.
Downstairs, I found Jace in the kitchen already.
He wasn't hovering, not exactly, but he was watching me. The same way you watch a glass vase at the edge of a table. Not because you think it's fragile. But because it's precious.
