"How long did it take?" I ask. "Before you could let her touch you without flinching?"
"Years." He says it honestly. "Years before I could accept a hug without going stiff as a board. Before I could let Mitchell pat my back without flinching. Before I could just—be touched without bracing for pain."
"But you got there."
"Eventually." His hand finds mine again, laces our fingers together. "And now I make a point of it. With the little kids, the new foster placements who come through the Reyes house for respite care. I hug them. Even when they flinch, even when they pull away, even when they don't know how to accept it—I keep trying. Because I want them to know what a hug is supposed to feel like. I want them to learn that not every touch is going to hurt. That some touches are safe and good."
I picture Ivan, this man who went years without being able to accept comfort, now actively giving it to scared kids who don't know how to receive it. Passing on the kindness that someone once showed him.
"That's—" I don't have words adequate for what I'm feeling. "Ivan, that's—you're—"
"It's what you did for me," he interrupts. "You were the first person who touched me without hurting me. You held me when I was scared and shaking. You let me sleep in your bed when I was scared. You showed me what it was supposed to feel like. I'm just passing it on. Doing for them what you did for me."
I stare at him, speechless. All those nights in the barn, all those times I held him while he shook with fear, I never thought about it as teaching him anything. I was just trying to keep him safe. Trying to make the world a little less terrible for one scared kid.
"You don't even know, do you?" Ivan says softly, his eyes searching my face. "You don't know how much you saved me. Not just from Henderson, from everything. You gave me a template for what kindness looks like. What safety feels like. What love looks like. I've been chasing that same feeling my whole life. That feeling of being held by you in the dark."
"Ivan—"
"You can learn again too," he says fiercely. "You can learn that not every touch hurts. That people can stay. That you're worth staying for.It'll take time. It might take years. But I'm patient. And I'm not going anywhere. I promise you that. I swear it."
"I don't know how to do this."
"Neither do I. Not really." He pulls me closer, until my head is on his chest and I can hear his heartbeat, steady and sure. "But we'll figure it out. We've figured out harder things than this. We survived Henderson. We survived being separated. Surely, we can figure out how to be together now."
I let myself sink into the warmth of him, into the solid weight of his arm around my shoulders. It feels foreign and familiar all at once. Like something I lost a long time ago and am only now finding again. Like coming home after years of wandering.
"Thank you," I whisper against his chest. "For still being the person who holds on when everything falls apart. For being the same person you were when we were kids."
His arms tighten around me until I can barely breathe, but I don't complain. I need this. I need to be held this tight in his big arms, need the physical proof that he's here, that he's real, that he's not going anywhere.
"Always," he says against my hair. "That's never going to change. You can count on me. I'm gonna tell you this so many times that eventually you'll hear it in your dreams."
Chapter 29: Ivan
It's almost ten when Jay's stomach growls hungrily. We've been lying in bed for hours, holding each other, existing in that perfect space where nothing outside this room matters.
I'm so comfortable, I could stay like this forever with Jay's head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin against mine.
But that growl is impossible to ignore. It's loud and insistent, and I feel it vibrate through his body into mine.
"When did you last eat?" I ask, running my fingers through his hair.
Jay lifts his head, frowning like he's trying to remember something from years ago instead of hours. "I don't remember. Breakfast, I think? Maybe? I had coffee this morning. Does coffee count as eating?"
"That was like fourteen hours ago. Fifteen if you're not counting coffee, which I'm not." I sit up slightly, dislodging him. "You need to eat. We both do, but especially you. I need to fatten you up."
"I forget sometimes." Jay says it like it's nothing, like forgetting to feed yourself is just a normal thing that happens to everyone. "When I'm working on something at the shop, I get focused and time disappears. Mick has to remind me to take lunch breaks. And when I'm here alone, I'm not really good at the whole taking-care-of-myself thing. Never have been."
"Yeah, I noticed." I sit up, pulling him with me. "We need to eat. Both of us. I haven't had anything since lunch either. I'm not much better than you."
"Shit." Jay runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in every direction, and he looks guilty. "I should have thought about this. I should have fed you when you got here. I didn't even think about dinner. I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's fine." I reach out and catch his hand, squeeze it. "We were busy, remember. We had more important priorities. But now we're both starving and if we don't eat soon, I'm going to pass out."
"Pizza again? Or are you sick of it?"
"Never. I could eat an entire pizza by myself right now."
