Chapter 184: Where Are The Tapes?

Reese The kitchen was warm in that quiet, late-night way that felt unreal. The kind of warmth that only comes when the house is sleeping and the world outside is black and still. The cake baked slowly in the oven. The overhead light cast a soft yellow glow that made the flour particles floating in the air look like dust motes dancing. The scent of vanilla, sugar and freshly baked cake lingered between us. Almost comforting. Roman had barely spoken through most of the baking. His movements were automatic and slow. Scoop. Level. Pour. Stir. He looked like a man who was trying not to think but failing miserably. His jaw clenched when something crossed his mind. His shoulders tightened and released. His breathing was just a little too careful, like he was holding himself together with thread. I watched him in small glances. I did not press him with questions. I did not poke at wounds that were already bleeding. I knew grief when I saw it. The raw kind. The kind that did not scream or throw