She didn’t finish.
She didn’t have to.
I didn’t think I’d need him. Need you.
That’s what I heard.
All I wanted in that moment was to touch her. Just my hand. Just one second. Her hair, her back, anything to let her know I was awake and I washereand I wasn’t goinganywhere.
But I didn’t.
I stayed still.
Because what she needed right now wasn’t my reaction.
It wasspace. The kind she hadn’t had in a decade.
When she was ready—when the heat passed and her body stopped screaming—I would ask the questions burning through my chest. The ones I hadevery damn rightto ask now.
But not until then.
Not while she was still fighting the fallout of survival.
She’d trusted someone with the truth.
Even if it wasn’t me, not yet… that mattered.
When she was ready, I’d be here. Arms open. Patience intact. But not blind. Not anymore.
She went quiet again.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the subtle rustle of her breath against the blanket, the whisper of cloth as Jay set the water bottle aside.
Then, just as I thought she might close herself off again, she said it.
Soft. Unsteady. The closest thing to lost I’d ever heard from her.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
That was it.
Not whispered like a secret. Just laid bare. Raw. No walls left.
I opened my eyes.
Jay saw it first. His head turned just slightly, like he’d known all along I was awake and had been waiting for me to step forward.
Wren didn’t notice as swiftly, then she glanced up and met my gaze. It was a physical blow that reached right into my soul. Once I knew I had her attention, I answered her earlier statement. “Then we learn.”
She jolted a little in my arms, instinctively trying to turn—only to remember the blanket still wrapped her in place. The same blanket I’d used to keep us both safe.
She tilted her head to look at me again, wide-eyed, pupils still blown wide from the heat. Her cheeks flushed, hair sticking to her forehead. She looked exhausted. Overheated. Vulnerable in a way I’d never seen her.
I held her a little more firmly, just to keep her steady.
“I—” she started, then swallowed hard. “How long have you?—?”
“Long enough,” I said quietly. “But not as long as I should’ve.”
