Morning light woke me, burning my crusted eyes, making me groan. I rolled sideways, snuggling closer to the warm body next to me, feeling Quaid stretch and sigh as his face turned toward me in sleep, breath on my forehead.

I clutched at the front of his T-shirt, memories returning in a wash of sadness. I felt him wake as I cried again, wetting the fabric under my cheek, his hand gently, ever so gently, stroking my hair over and over again.

"You're still here." It wasn't ...