There were certain moments in pregnancy when your body felt like it needed eight hours of sleep, but your mind insisted on running laps instead.
Tonight was one of those nights.
I was lying in bed, curled against Jace while he slept. His hand rested protectively on my bump, warm and steady. His breathing was calm finally. After days of stress, travel, meetings and panic, he was actually resting.
I should've been resting too.
But I couldn't.
Every time I closed my eyes, a heaviness settled on my chest. Not fear. Not exactly. More like unease with a pulse.
Like something was moving in the shadows, circling us. Watching.
I shifted slightly, trying not to wake him. He murmured something in his sleep, his arm tightening instinctively around me.
That alone made my heart soften.
I pressed a small kiss to his knuckles.
He deserved this peace.
So I forced myself to lie still and to breathe slowly. So I could at least give him at least a few hours without me worrying him.
