Miller
My head felt like it had been run over by a Zamboni. Twice. I woke up with a deep, aching throb behind my eyes and a mouth that tasted like I had licked the bottom of a wine barrel.
I yawned hard, stretching my arms above my head as the sheets slid down my bare chest. The room was bright, morning light pouring in through the glass doors that led to the balcony.
Salt air drifted inside, carrying the distant sound of waves. For a second, everything felt perfect until I reached to my side and my hand met nothing but cool, empty sheets.
Leo was not there.
My heart slammed against my ribs. The fear hit fast and stupid, the kind that comes from too many late nights worrying about him pulling away.
I sat up too quickly, the room spinning slightly as I scanned the space. The bed was rumpled where we had fallen into it last night, my clothes still in a pile on the floor from when Leo had gently undressed me.
