It’s clinical.
It’s professional.
It’s—
Finn inhales sharply.
His thigh brushes my hip.
I freeze.“Does that hurt?”
He smirks faintly.“Which part?”
I look at him sharply, but he’s watching me with something soft and vulnerable under the teasing.
For a heartbeat, the room feels warmer.Smaller.
“Raise your arm,” I say.
He does.Winces.Muscles ripple under my hands.
I keep my touch steady.
“You strained your deltoid.Nothing torn.But you need ice and rest.”
“Will you stay and supervise?”he asks, voice dropping into something warm and gravelly.
Before I can respond, a shadow fills the doorway.
Kael.
Of course.
“I need her.”His voice is clipped, controlled.Directed at Finn, not me.
Finn’s jaw tics.“For what, Captain?”
Kael’s eyes flick to me.“Atlas.”
I sigh inwardly.“What did he do now?”
Kael steps aside so I can walk past him—and I swear, swear, his gaze dips to my mouth for half a second.
Finn mutters behind me, “You’ve got competition, captain.”
Kael ignores him but his jaw flexes.
Oh.
This is going to be complicated.
