“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But I think... I think I want to find out.”
The admission hangs between us. I see something in his expression. Hope. Yes, I think it’s hope. And... something else.
Something I’m afraid to name.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For not lying to me. For not offering false hope.”
“I’m not in the business of making people feel better about their bad choices.”
“No. You’re in the business of fixing what people like me break.”
I shrug. “Someone has to be.”
He almost smiles at that. Then he stands abruptly and the moment shatters.
“I should get some sleep,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “Long day tomorrow. We need to check on the generator, see if we can get communications working. Maybe the storm will finally break.”
“Right.” I force a smile. “Yeah. Of course.”
He leaves me sitting there with my wine glass and half-eaten chicken.
I hear him moving around in the great room. The rustle of his sleeping bag. The creak of the sectional as he settles in.
Well, that was abrupt.
I finish my wine. Clean up the dishes using our precious melted snow water. Take my time because I’m not ready to face him yet. Or maybe I’m hoping he’ll already be asleep when I get there.
When I finally enter the great room, he’s lying in his sleeping bag with his back to me. His breathing is even and slow.
Asleep. Or pretending to be.
Coward.
Both of us are cowards.
I crawl into my own sleeping bag on the opposite side of the fireplace. The same careful distance we’ve been pretending matters when we both know we woke up tangled together just yesterday morning.
I stare at the fire. He’s added more wood, I note, and built up the flames for the night. I watch them dance and flicker. Think about damaged systems that can heal if you’re willing to do the work.
Think about a man who looked at me with blue eyes full of wounds and asked if even he could be fixed.
I don’t know, but I think I want to find out.
Why did I say that?
What the hell am I doing?
He represents everything I’ve built my career opposing.
And yet...
Across the room, Gregory shifts in his sleeping bag. For a moment, I think he’s going to get up and come to me. But, he doesn’t move. Or even wake. At least, I don’t think he does.
And for some reason, I’m disappointed.
I close my eyes and try to sleep myself.
But all I can see is the look on his face when he asked if he could be healed.
