Thirty-One Hours

ROWAN'S POV

My body feels like it was mauled by a truck, ten times, and reversed.

The unfamiliar ceiling spins above me in lazy circles that my brain can't correct, and the room smells like laundry detergent that isn't mine and a shirt collar against my neck that smells like Vance.

And that last detail is the one my body grabs onto before my brain has finished loading — the scent of him wrapped ar