Allison’s POV The first thing I became aware of was warmth. The kind that seeped into my bones, wrapping me in a cocoon of safety. My eyelids felt heavy, my body sore, but none of it mattered the moment I peeled my eyes open and found him. Clyde. He sat in the chair beside the bed, his broad frame slouched slightly, a glass of whiskey hanging lazily from his fingers. His eyes—dark, unreadable—watched me intently, as if he had been doing so for hours. The morning sun streamed in through the windows, casting golden light over him, softening the sharp lines of his face. But despite the warm glow, exhaustion clung to him. How long had he been sitting there? "Clyde?" My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was enough to make him blink. I swallowed, my throat dry, and reached out weakly. "Come to bed…" For a moment, he didn’t move. He only exhaled slowly, setting his glass down on the nightstand before standing. And then he was there, towering over me, his presence ove
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