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... loose, weightless, like gravity had forgotten me.
I drifted in and out of sleep, memories slipping through the cracks.
Ashton’s arms. The sting of pool water against my skin.
A towel. A bed. Sleep. But not for long.
Then the blur of movement—his chest under my cheek, the lurch of a car.
I was somewhere else after that. Multiple voices, hands on my forehead and wrist, an electronic beep, receding footsteps, then a different kind of quiet. Cooler air. Steril ...
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