Her eyes meet mine.For a moment she looks like she might break.Then she nods again, smaller this time, and disappears into the bathroom to change.
The second the door closes, Finn exhales a breath he’d been holding.Atlas rakes a hand through his hair and mutters something under his breath I don’t catch.
They’re worried.
I get it.
So am I.
But she chose.And choice matters.
Atlas leans against the counter next to me, crossing his arms.“Take care of her.”
It’s not a request.
It’s not a challenge.
It’s a warning.
I lift one brow.“I do.”
His jaw works, but he doesn’t push.Finn looks between us, face softer, concern written in every line.
“If she looks overwhelmed,” Finn says quietly, “get her somewhere calm.”
“I know.”
“And if she zones out?”Finn adds.“Just...anchor her.Say her name.Touch her hand.Slow her breathing.”
“I know,” I repeat.
Atlas snorts.“He read a medical manual for her last night.”
“Shut up,” Finn fires back.
I don’t comment.They aren’t wrong.
The door opens before they can start something.Wren steps out wearing jeans, boots, and the sweatshirt I gave her from the equipment room days ago when she forgot hers.She carries herself like she’s trying not to shrink, trying not to look like she ran here from fear.
She doesn’t realize she’s succeeding.She always underestimates herself.
“Ready?”I ask.
She breathes in, holds it, lets it out.“Yeah.”
I grab my jacket and walk with her toward the door.Finn watches us, eyes warm.Atlas watches too, but his stare is harder—protective in a different way.He’ll take the next shift whether I assign it or not.
Outside, the air is cold enough to sting.Wren zips her sweatshirt halfway up, shoulders tucking inward before she catches herself and stands straighter.
“I can walk fast,” she murmurs.
“We walk your speed,” I answer.
She glances at me.“That’s not what I meant.”
I know what she meant.She meant she doesn’t want to look like the girl who needs guarding.She meant she doesn’t want to slow me down.She meant she doesn’t want to be a weight.
I stop at the bottom of the stairs, turn to face her, and let my voice go quiet enough she has to look at me.
