Ava’s heart trembled, nodding to answer him hoarsely, “Yeah.”
The movement of her hand stopped and she looked at him, his deep black eyes, like two deep vortexes, she was sucked in and couldn’t get out.
Suddenly, Chase stretched out his hand and took her into his arms, his arms tightening constantly.
He was looking for a sense of steadiness, not hugging the quilt, not hugging the pillow, not hugging the imagination, but firmly hugging the peace, the peace he wanted.
“Your wounds.” Ava was worried about the injuries on Chase’s body, raised his neck and looked at him nervously.
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