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CHAPTER 81
~Spring's POV~
The knock on my door was soft but sure. Not the impatient kind, but the kind that let you know someone was coming in, whether you answered or not—typical Rhys.
"Door's open," I called, already straightening the loose papers on my bed.
Rhys stepped in, dressed neatly in dark jeans and a slate-grey sweater, his coat slung casually over one arm.
His hair was still slightly damp from a recent shower, and the faint scent of eucalyptus trailed in with him.
He looked less like a doctor and more like someone from a tailored magazine shoot—effortlessly calm and infuriatingly polished for someone who probably hadn't slept more than four hours.
"You decent?" he teased, eyeing the tangled sheets and my laptop, which was still balancing on my knees.
"Nope. Mentally? Always indecent," I replied, then gave a small grin as I shut my laptop and moved it aside.
