AMARANTA POV
When I finally managed to snap my jaw back into something resembling composure, it was already too late.
Too late for dignity, too late for sanity, too late for whatever fragile attempt at emotional equilibrium I had been clinging to since the hospital, because Garrett walked into the bedroom carrying two mugs of coffee like some domestic fantasy conjured by a sleep-deprived mind, wearing nothing but low-hanging sweatpants and that devastating smile that should honestly come with a warning label, and the moment the morning light caught on his bare chest I felt my entire body betray me in ways that were not subtle, not polite, and definitely not aligned with the careful emotional recovery I had promised myself.
Yes, I said it.
My mate.
The word echoed in my skull like some
