Cora
The sheets were still cool when I reached out. I had fallen back asleep after noticing that Kingston was gone, but it seemed that, even with all of the time that had passed, he hadn’t returned.
For one long second, I thought Kingston had just rolled over, that he was still beside me—maybe watching me sleep, quiet and unreadable. But when my hand met only rumpled linen and an empty pillow, the illusion shattered, and I remembered his hastily scrawny note.
I sat up slowly, the soft cotton of his shirt slipping over my bare thighs, the bond still humming faintly in my chest. I wasn’t alone. Not truly. I could still feel him. But it was distant, like a whisper through fog.
I blinked sleep from my eyes and glanced at the clock. 8:03 a.m.
I should’ve expected this.
Kingston didn’
