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When he opened the front door, the house was dim and silent except for the low hum of the heater. He found Lily on the couch, wrapped in a thin throw blanket that wasn’t doing much. Her sleeves were damp, her hair still clinging to her forehead, and her hands trembled as she tried to hold a mug of lukewarm tea someone had set down and forgotten.
Ethan knelt immediately and pulled her into his arms, feeling how cold her skin was through the fabric. “You did the right thing calling me,” he whispered, kissing her temple. “You never have to stay uncomfortable to make an adult happy.” Lily didn’t argue—she just breathed out as if she’d been holding her breath for hours.
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