Mathieu had fallen asleep on the couch, his small body curled into the cushions.
Damien scooped the boy into his arms with careful ease and carried him down the hall. He laid him in his bed, pulled the covers up to his chin, and lingered only long enough to make sure he was settled before quietly shutting the door. Then he retreated to his own room.
Jacqueline hadn't known real sleep since the day she arrived. Her body ached for it, begged for the mercy of unconsciousness but fear held her hostage. The nightmares were merciless, and she had no sleeping pills, no antidepressants, nothing to quiet the chaos in her mind.
Long after midnight, she slipped out of her room.
She moved down the stairs softly and noticed Damien's jacket draped over the couch. He was home.
She peeked into Mathieu's room. He was sleeping peacefully.
