Ronan stayed awake for quite a while. Beside Adam, watching him sleep. Studying the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. Adam had grown so much. Handsome, beautiful, lovely. Yet he was still young, the hands of a man still growing into them. Ronan loved them. Ronan loved him. Nothing else could compare; Kavinsky had tried to keep him, but it never matched up to the feelings he held for Adam.

Eventually Ronan dozed, comforted by Adam's presence. Yet he woke up first so that he could make breakfast. The old loft had a stove on which to cook in the corner, something that Ronan had been surprised to discover still worked, and rather than call for a maid to fetch breakfast Ronan just made it. Eggs he gathered, sautéed vegetables, and even coffee he had packed in his trunk. No need to bother any of them at the main house at all.

The smell of cooking food filled the Barns. Warm and rich coffee, sizzling eggs, and bright vegetables. Peppers, onions, corn. Ronan liked cooking, actually. It was calming. And he wanted to do something for Adam, too. Had anyone ever made breakfast for Adam before he woke? Ronan wasn't sure.