"I was. I just don't sleep deep," Jason said, sitting up. I don't know if it was just me, but he seemed like he'd gone through hell in the week we hadn't seen each other.
His movements were slower, more deliberate. Maybe it was from his wounds. But it felt more like he was stressed. Mentally and emotionally.
Or maybe it's just me.
"Rough week?" I asked, leaning against the counter and sipping my water.
Jason nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of the couch. "Family issues."
I raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to continue. For once, he didn't deflect.
"My father decided to throw another one of his tests at me," Jason said, his voice low but calm. "It's always the same thing. He questions my decisions, compares me to my brothers, and dangles the Lincoln name over my head like it's a prize I've been too stupid to appreciate."
