I lock eyes with her.
She doesn’t flinch.
She doesn’t soften.
She doesn’t ask me to understand.
She just stands there, small and strong and stubborn and absolutely right, and something inside me...loosens.
I bite the inside of my cheek.“Then we walk you home.”
She nods.“Okay.”
Finn swallows.“And you text us every hour.”
“No,” Kael says.“Every thirty minutes.”
Wren rolls her eyes.“That seems excessive.”
“You know what isn’t excessive?”I say, stepping closer.“Breathing.”
She exhales a shaky breath.“Atlas...”
“You text,” I insist.“Every thirty minutes.Pictures.Full timestamps.”
“I’m not sending timestamps like I’m testifying in court.”
“You are tonight.”
Her mouth twitches.She hates this.She understands it anyway.
“Fine,” she mutters.“Every thirty minutes.”
“And we walk you to the door,” Kael says.
“And check every room,” Finn adds, hope sparking in his eyes again.
I step closer.Her chin lifts automatically.
“And I’m keeping a truck outside,” I say.“Whole night.”
She stiffens.“Atlas...”
“I’m not asking permission,” I echo her earlier words back to her.
She nearly smiles.“Okay.But don’t freeze to death.”
I shrug.“Fine with me.”
She sighs, sinking onto the stool.“This isn’t how I meant this to go.”
“No shit,” Finn mutters.
She looks between all three of us.“I’m not trying to push you away.”
Kael leans against the counter.“We know.”
“I’m trying to push back the fear,” she says softly.“Just a little.Just enough to breathe.”
