I walk toward the bed. “I was about to ask you that.”
He finishes spreading out the blanket and sits back on his heels. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
“Like where?”
“Behind a collapsed barn in southern Iraq. Inside a half-sunk boat on the coast of Tunisia. Once under a Jeep during a monsoon.”
“That sounds… cozy.”
“Depends on your definition.”
I slide onto the bed and curl under the blanket, heart still hammering a little too fast from his reaction. Frommine.
He dims the lights, leaving only the fire’s glow.
The room goes quiet.
And something in my chest loosens.
Maybe it’s the warmth. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t asked for anything in return. Maybe it’s the fact that this man could’ve walked away a hundred times—and hasn’t.
“Nate?” I whisper.
He shifts on the floor beside me, one arm folded behind his head.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
His brow furrows. I can feel it in the dark. “For what?”
“You didn’t have to do any of this. You didn’t have to believe me. Or bring me here. Or give me your bed.”
He’s silent for a second too long.
Then—
“I’d do it again tomorrow. No question.”
My throat goes tight. “Even if I steal all the hot water?”
“Even then.”
I smile into the pillow. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
He doesn’t respond. But when the fire crackles, I hear him breathe out, slow and deep, like maybe he needed those words more than I realized.
And for the first time in years, I fall asleep feeling safe.
Not because the door is locked.
Not because I’m off the grid.
But becausehe’shere.
And that’s enough.
6
