With a quiet breath, I lay back and let myself settle into sleep, the tension from earlier slowly fading as the night wrapped around the room.
The next morning, I woke earlier than usual. The house was still, filled with a soft silence that only came before everyone else stirred.
Ashton was still asleep beside me. His breathing was steady, his posture composed, as if even in rest he carried the same controlled presence he showed when awake. His dark hair fell neatly, framing sharp features that looked even more defined in the early light.
It was the first time I had really looked at him like this.
His lashes rested low over his eyes, long and still. His lips were closed, the corners slightly downturned, giving him a serious, almost guarded look even in sleep. There was always a sense of awareness around him, as if part of him never fully let go.
People like him rarely did.
