Chris woke to the sound of the shower running. For a moment, he lay still, caught between the warmth of the sheets and the faint chill of the morning air that seeped through the half-open terrace doors. The other side of the bed was empty but still faintly warm, as if Dax had only just gotten up.
The night before had ended quietly. No raised voices, no sharp words. Just the two of them on the terrace, a long talk that stripped everything down to honesty and one kiss that neither of them had planned or tried to explain after.
He shifted, sitting up slowly, the blanket sliding around his waist. His eyes found the collar almost immediately, resting on the low table by the window, silver catching the light, smooth and deceptively simple for something that had caused so much trouble.
