Philip's POV
Dawn brings cool air that fills my lungs with clarity. I step outside to find Warren on the porch, bundled in an oversized blanket beside Sean. His voice carries a slight rasp as he speaks quietly, still recovering but clearly on the mend.
Sean attempts to persuade him that oatmeal will help his recovery, while Warren's dubious expression reveals his thoughts about that suggestion. The sight draws a smile from me.
Sally had been correct about his fever breaking before sunrise. Karl remained with him most of the night, allowing the boy to sleep against his chest. Ajax and I alternated shifts afterward. I spent hours on the floor next to the bed, half-conscious, monitoring each breath Warren took.
Through the kitchen window, Sally catches my attention. She stands at the sink with her hair secured back, her cheeks still flushed from sleep. The image strikes me with quiet intensity. She needs no grand gestures to capture my heart repeatedly, simply her presence suffices.
