The argument built behind his eyes—the reasons we shouldn’t, the risks, the thousand ways he could push us away.
“You have careers,” he finally said. “Obligations. You can’t?—”
“Typhon offered us both positions in Unit 23. In the meantime, I’m still on leave, as is Phee.” I held his gaze. “There’s nothing in London that matters more than this.”
“You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”
“Then, tell me.”
He looked away. Outside, the sky had gone dark.
“I’m not easy.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m not…I don’t know how to do this. I’ve spent years avoiding it.”
“I know.”
“I’ll try to protect you even when you don’t need it. I’ll make decisions that should be yours, because I can’t stop trying to control everything.”
“I know.”
“Then, why—” His voice cracked. “Why are you still here?”
I stood and leaned over him, bracing my hands on either side of his head. His eyes were dark and vulnerable.
“Because we’re not done with you,” I said. “Because whatever you think you are—whatever you’re afraid of being—we’ve seen it. And we still want you.”
“Oliver.” His hand came up, trembling, and cupped the back of my neck. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”
“Good thing I’m not asking you to.”
I kissed him. Softly, because he was still healing. Gently, because he was still afraid. But certain, because I was done accepting his distance.
When I leaned away, his eyes were wet.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Callen returnedan hour later with takeaway containers and news that Rafe had completed an initial security review of the Thorned Thistle.
“Three vulnerabilities,” he said, setting food on the rolling table. “All addressed. Rafe’s bringing the full report to Greymarch once Kiernan’s settled.”
“How bad?” Kiernan asked. He was sitting up, looking more like himself despite the IV and the bandages.
“Bad enough that Rafe’s taking it personally.” Callen handed him a container. “Eat. You look like a corpse.”
“Flattering.”
“I’m not here to flatter you. I’m here to make sure you don’t die of stubbornness before we get you home.”
Ophelia had woken when the food arrived. She sat cross-legged on the end of the bed, picking at noodles, watching Kiernan and Callen with an expression I couldn’t read.
“Gus called,” she said. “He’s planning to come by Greymarch in a few days. Something about a new rope technique he wants to show you.”
Kiernan’s mouth twitched. “He knows I can’t do anything for weeks.”
“I think that’s the point. He wants to demonstrate on someone else while you watch and suffer.”
He chuckled. “That sounds like Gus.”
We ate. Nobody talked for a while. The monitors beeped. The fluorescent lights hummed. Outside, the hospital continued its endless cycle of crises and recoveries, but in this room, a change had occurred.
