Not a Love Language

ROWAN’S POV

We follow, because we’re only human, and we catch it from the doorway of the sitting room — Cleo on the sofa with her tablet, and Malachi standing in front of her, holding out a single glass of water like it’s a diamond ring, his whole body rigid with the terror of a man who has faced down feral wolves and never once looked this scared.

“I brought you water,” he says.

Cleo looks up.

Sh