I don’t trust myself to speak.
“I didn’t even think about it,” she adds. “I just called you.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Princess.”
“I know. I just wanted you to understand it wasn’t random.”
Oh, I understand. Way too well. I lean back and exhale slowly. “I’m glad you called me.”
Her eyes soften. “Me too.”
The quiet that follows is heavier now, charged, like we both know we just stepped into deeper water and neither of us is pretending otherwise.
“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to feel yet,” she says finally.
“You don’t have to know,” I tell her. “Not today. Not tomorrow.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“And for the record,” I add lightly, even though my chest is doing complicated things, “if your brain ever tells you not to call me again, it’s wrong.”
That earns a real smile. “Good to know.”
She finishes eating, exhaustion finally catching up with her.
“You look like you’re about to crash,” I say.
“I feel like I could sleep for twelve more hours.”
“Then you should.”
She hesitates. “What about you?”
“I can sit. Or watch bad TV. Or stare at the wall like a normal emotionally stunted biker.”
She laughs quietly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah. But I’m reliable.”
She studies me, then nods. “Okay. I think I want to lie down again.”
I stand and hold out my hand. “Come on.”
She takes it without hesitation, and that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. I walk her back to the bedroom, help her under the blankets, tuck them around her like she’s something precious.
She catches my wrist before I can step away. “You’re not leaving, right?”
“No,” I say immediately. “I’m right here.”
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
I sit on the edge of the bed as she curls toward me, calmer this time, trusting, safe. Her eyes drift shut.
“Rev?”
“Yeah, Princess?”
