A heavy awkwardness filled the room—except for Ashton, who seemed completely unaffected. He carried me over to the couch with ease and gently set me down, saying in his calm, steady voice, "Just a moment, Mr. Mercer."

He didn’t head to the door right away, though. Instead, he grabbed a damp towel and began wiping my hands, his movements deliberate and tender.

"Start without me. The oatmeal is still hot, so don’t wolf it down," he instructed, his tone softer than I had ...