Somewhere around midnight, Clara’s voice slowed. Her head dipped. Exhaustion pulled her down the way gravity pulls ash.
Jacob felt it before it happened.
Her weight leaned gently against his shoulder.
Just enough contact to change everything.
He went very still.
Afraid to wake her.
Afraid to move.
Afraid that if he shifted even an inch, she’d jolt upright and apologize and retreat into her shell of independence.
So he didn’t move.
He stared into the firelight, feeling the warmth of her against him through
