Three hours later, everything has changed.
We’re still in the room, having sent word to our professors that we’re all…indisposed for the day. But mom is sitting on a cushion on the floor with Rafe’s dark head in her lap, softly stroking her favorite’s hair as he lays on a series of soft blankets that she had us lay out for him. And even though mom healed him pretty much the moment she came stumbling through the door, she still insists that Rafe not be moved – that he instead be quite intensely pampered exactly where he is.
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