Sienna

The late afternoon sun spilled through the open garage door, bathing the space in a warm, golden light. Jaxon was still bent over the trunk, arranging boxes and duffel bags, his shirt clinging lightly to his back. I stood there, watching him in silence. Every zip of a bag, every slam of a car door felt like another reminder that time was running out.

I didn’t plan to move closer. My legs just did it on their own.

Before I could even think, my arms slipped around his waist from ...