Rain's POV:
The light doesn't just drift, it pierces.
It's a sharp, clean gold that spills across the ruined rug, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
I stir, my body feeling heavy, like it's made of warm honey.
There's a rhythmic, soothing sensation against my scalp—long, calloused fingers carding through my hair with a gentleness that feels almost sacred.
I moan softly, pushing my face deeper into the pillar of warmth beside me. He smells like woodsmoke, salt, and the fading, boozy sweetness of the bourbon.
My eyes flutter open, and for a heartbeat, the panic of the last six years claws at my throat—the fear that I'll wake up alone.
The fear eats at me nearly making me panic.
But.
Then I see them.
Blue eyes. Not the stormy, electric blue of the midnight rain, but a clear, deep ocean blue.
He's looking at me with a soft, tired smile that reaches the corners of his eyes.
"Morning, baby," he coos.
