I should let it go. Should wait until morning, have the conversation when I'm not raw from a nightmare and the taste of his blood is still on my tongue. But I won't sleep until I ask.
"I track Robin's phone," I say. "Have for years. He knows about it. Set it up after I deployed because I couldn't—I needed to know he was okay. And when I got back, I couldn't turn it off."
Jason shifts, propping himself up to look at me. Waiting.
"I want to track yours too."
He doesn't react the way I expect—no flinch, no pulled-back expression. Just studies me in the dim light.
"Because of Brennan?"
"Partly. But I was like this before him. He just made it worse." I scrape a hand over my face. "My brain runs threat scenarios constantly. The only thing that quiets it is knowingwhere my people are. If I can check that you're at the bar, at the library—I can breathe."
"So it's not about trust."
"No."
"It's about your brain not being able to rest unless it knows I'm safe."
"Yes."
He's quiet for a moment. Then: "Okay."
I blink. "Just like that?"
"Ash, I've watched you scan every room we walk into. Catalog the exits. Position yourself between me and the door." His hand finds my stomach, presses flat. "That's just how you're wired. I'm not going to pretend I want someone different."
"Most people would think it's controlling."
"Most people don't know the difference between care and control." He shifts closer. "Control is stopping someone from going places. Care is wanting to know they got there safe. You've never once tried to tell me what to do. You just want to know I'm okay."
My throat goes tight.
"Track my phone," he says. "Check on me whenever you need to. But if it ever crosses a line—if you ever use it to check up on who I'm with because you don't trust me—I'll call you on it. And you have to actually hear me."
"Fair."
"And you have to talk to someone. About Brennan. About the nightmares. A professional."
"Jason—"
"That's my condition." His eyes hold mine. "You take care of everyone else. Let someone help you take care of yourself."
I want to argue. Tell him I'm handling it. But I'm lying awake at 4 AM asking my boyfriend to let me track his phone, so clearly I'm not handling anything.
"Deal," I say.
It takes five minutes to set up the app, to add him to the same group as Robin. When it's done, I can see the little dot on my screen that shows he's right here, right next to me, exactly where he should be.
I finally exhale.
"Better?" Jason asks.
"Yeah. Better."
"Good." He settles back against me. "Now stop thinking and go to sleep. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
It takes a while. But eventually my brain quiets, and I fall asleep with his weight against my side, his heartbeat steady against my ribs, my mark on his neck, and a little blue dot on my phone that says he's exactly where he's supposed to be.
