Because I was.
I was going to erase peanuts from this city.
Fuck those who enjoyed it. It threatened the life of someone I liked, for that it was gone. At least from my city. If I could push it to regional. I fucking would.
Every Crow owned restaurant, bar, supplier, distributor, if they stocked or served anything with peanut traces, they were done. I’d blacklist them personally. If Nik pushed back, I’d push harder. I was good at doing impossible things.
And I’d already nearly lost her once.
I wasn’t going to risk it again because someone wanted to garnish a plate.
The sound of sheets shifting caught my ear. I froze mid-reach for the oat milk carton. I dropped what I was doing.
She was sitting up. Fuck. Thank fucking god. She was okay. I brought a drink over and crouched beside the bed.
She blinked at me. I held it out slowly.
“It’s for recovery. Helps with the side effects. I looked it up while you slept.”
Her fingers brushed mine as she took the glass.
“I’m sorry,”
Because no matter how hard I tried to fix everything now, I’d still taken her there. I’d still watched her nearly die.
“Thank you,” she rasped, voice rough from the reaction. “For, last night. And this.”
“Don’t talk. You shouldn’t strain?—”
“I want to. I just, I don’t want to be alone in my head right now.”
That hit deeper than I was ready for. I nodded once. She took another sip, then set the glass on the nightstand and looked up at me.
“I’m not trying to be dramatic. I just…I really thought I was going to die.”
My throat closed. Now was not the time to say she nearly did. She reached for the edge of the blanket and pulled it tighter around herself.
“Can you, would you just lie here for a bit?”
I didn’t move. Because I wasn’t used to someone asking me for comfort like that. Fuck. I wasn’t used to being wanted just for my presence.
She shifted to one side, tugging the blankets. I sat down beside her, then laid back slowly, but I kept a respectful gap.
She noticed.
“Do you know about love languages?” She asked.
I glanced at her. “No.”
“It’s a thing. Psychology or pop science or something. Just, ways people understand love. How they give it and feel it.”
“And yours is?”
She looked up at me. “Touch. Physical touch.”
Of course it was.
I closed the space. Carefully, I reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. Then slid closer, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against my chest. She curled into me like she’d done in the elevator. But this time it wasn’t pure fear driving her to my arms.
