“Guard dog?” I offer.
She doesn’t smile. “This isn’t funny, Connor. You must be freezing. And for what? To prove some kind of point?”
“To keep you safe. Someone broke into your home, Fern. Did you really think I was going to leave you alone with that threat hanging over your head?”
“The pack is handling it. You said so yourself.”
“The pack is handling the perimeter.” I push myself to my feet and brush dirt from my jeans. “I’m handling you.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“That came out wrong.” I scrub a hand over my face and try to shake off the fog of exhaustion. “I meant—I’m not going to sit at home and wait for someone else to tell me you’re okay. I need to know for myself. I need to be here. I need—”
I stop myself before I say something I can’t take back.
“You need what?”
I shake my head and force my voice back to something approaching normal. “Nothing. Forget it. The point is, I wasn’t going to leave you unprotected. Not tonight. Not after what happened.”
Something flickers in her gaze. Not quite gratitude, but close. Maybe recognition. Maybe the first crack in the wall she’s built between us.
She looks away first.
“Well, I’m fine. As you can see.” She gestures at herself with a self-deprecating wave. “Alive and well and in desperate need of coffee. So you can go home now and get some actual sleep.”
“Where are you headed?”
“The store. I need a few things for breakfast before work.”
I glance at my watch. It’s already past seven, and I know her first appointment is at nine-thirty. “You’ll be late if you go yourself. You still need to shower and get ready.”
“I’m perfectly capable of managing my own schedule.”
“Give me the list.” I hold out my hand and wait. “I’ll go. You get ready for work. By the time you’re done, I’ll be back with everything you need.”
She stares at my outstretched palm like she’s trying to decide if accepting help from me counts as some kind of defeat. I keep my hand steady and don’t move.
“I don’t need you to run my errands.”
“I know you don’t, but you’ve had a hell of a night, and you’ve got a full day of patients ahead of you. Let me do this one thing, Fern. Please.”
The fight drains out of her all at once. Her shoulders slump, and she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.
“Fine.” She slaps it into my palm. “But this doesn’t mean anything.”
“Never said it did.”
“And I’m still angry with you.”
“I know.”
“And this doesn’t change what happened between us. Any of it.”
“I know that too.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re being awfully agreeable.”
“Would you prefer I argue?”
