Christy's POV
The days after I came back home blurred together in a haze of tenderness and suffocation.
Every morning, my mother slipped into my room before I even opened my eyes, smoothing the blankets over me, brushing my hair back from my face, and murmuring prayers under her breath.
My father brought trays of food, bowls of soup, fruit cut so neatly they looked like works of art, glasses of milk warmed just the way I liked it.
He hovered in the doorway with his broad shoulders filling the frame, pretending he wasn't watching me breathe as though I might vanish if he blinked.
I understood their feelings because I was also scared of waking up one day and finding out that it was all just a dream.
So seeing them like this gave me a lot of comfort.
And my brothers, Mason and Kelvin were no different.
