Yes?

~Cali~

It was three in the morning when Evan returned to bed, his usual routine. He smells of mint and eucalyptus, masking the scent of bourbon. He thought I was asleep, kissing my forehead before wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Evan?” I spoke, my voice was hoarse from the emotions I’ve been holding in since I heard his talk with Sander.

“Did I wake you?” he leaned on his hand, propping himself up with his elbows digging on our pillow. I turned to face him, his hands instantly coming up to brush my cheek, up and down, soft caress with the back of his hand.

His wrist is healed now, he sprained it again when he punched Nate, but he’s nursing a wound that can’t be cured with any kind of over-the-counter medicines.