“Hide that you’re scared.”
She crosses her arms, curling inward.“I don’t want you to think—”
“Wren.”I step closer.“I don’t think less of you for surviving.”
Her breath shakes.
I want to touch her.
Not because she needs it.
Because I do.
I reach out slowly, letting her see the motion.My fingers land lightly on her forearm—barely a touch, barely pressure, but her entire body reacts.I feel the tremble through her sleeve.
“You’re not alone,” I say.
Her eyes close.“I know.I’m trying to believe it.”
I slide my thumb slightly, not enough to overwhelm her—just enough to say I’m here.
“You will,” I murmur.“And until then, we believe it for you.”
She inhales sharply, like the words cracked something open she didn’t expect.
“Kael,” she whispers.“How do you stay so calm?”
I almost laugh—unexpected, quiet.“I’m not.”
Her eyes open, searching my face.“You look like you are.”
I let the truth slip.“For you, I can be.”
The air tightens between us.
Not with fear.
With heat.
Wren’s eyes drop to my mouth for a second—just one—and that’s all it takes for something deep in my chest to pull taut.
She steps back like she felt it too.“We should...keep walking.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice lower than before.“We should.”
We start down the sidewalk again.Her fingers brush mine once—accidental or not, I can’t tell—but the contact sparks through me like electricity.
When we reach the intersection, she tenses again.Cars pass.A bus slows.A man in a black jacket crosses the street.Wren’s hands shake.
I shift my body, stepping slightly in front of her, creating a barrier without announcing it.She exhales shakily behind me.
“You’re alright,” I say quietly.“I’ve got you.”
When the light changes, I move with her at a pace she sets.Halfway across, she moves closer to me—closer than she has all morning—her arm brushing mine, her shoulder warm against my sleeve.
She doesn’t move away.
Neither do I.
