She woke once in the night. A dream, or a memory, startled her awake. She was warm. One leg wrapped over one of Holt’s, her head on his chest. His arm wrapped tight around her. Gods above. She’d missed touch a whole lot more than she’d realised. She breathed in his scent and listened to his heartbeat until the memory of the assailant faded. She played over his words from a few hours before. I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years. I’m not ready to lose another. Neither was she.
