Her husband leaned forward on the bed, hands balled into fists. “There’s something you must understand, Brenna. I feel your emotions. I sense when you are upset. Don’t ask me why, I haven’t a clue. But your distress woke me. I’ve been sitting there,” he waved at the chair, “for more than three hours waiting for you to stir.

Did she sense his emotions also? She thought maybe she did.

Author: Cynthia Wicklund