Chapter 71

**Sloane**

We must have sat there for hours after I woke, both of us too afraid to move in case the other vanished. At some point, exhaustion won. When I blink awake again, his chest is under my cheek, his heartbeat a slow, stubborn drum against my ear. I can taste salt at the edge of my lips—his tears, maybe mine. He stirs before I do. The shift of muscle beneath me makes the chair creak.

“Easy,”