Connor
Edward is asleep.
I know this because he's gone quiet.
That's rare. Usually there's something. A comment. A laugh. A complaint about the water being cold or the sheep being stupid or me being stupid. But right now? His head is on my chest, hair damp and curling, and he's just... breathing.
I'm running my hands through it. Slow. Messy. The way he likes. He looks ridiculous. Cute. Sleepy. All pruned fingers and half-closed eyes and my hoodie draped over the side of the tub because he insisted he was "fine" and then immediately started shivering.
We topped the water up ten minutes ago. Added more heat so we could stay longer before we had to go back to the cabin and get ready for dinner, but honestly? I'm in no rush.
This is the moment I'm stealing. Him, warm against me. The hills turning gold. The world quiet except for birds and the occasional sheep judging us from the fence.
