Chapter 3Justin slept, on and off, for the rest of the night. He did not sleep easily; he woke with small sounds of pain, and creases between eyes. Kris, heart knotting his throat, offered painkillers of the magical and ordinary varieties, along with tea, coffee, various foods—sweet, savory, anything Justin indicated interest in—and stayed wide awake. His hands seemed to help: stroking Justin’s hair, kneading Justin’s back or the nape of his neck, being present and steady.
A few knots unwound in his chest when Justin smiled tiredly at him, and nibbled a chicken and artichoke slice or two of his favorite pizza order, and murmured, “That feels good…” while nestling more into Kris’s touch.
Trusting. Relaxed. So unguarded about placing himself into Kris’s care. Justin was a f*****g miracle.
