“It’s snuck up on you, too, hasn’t it?”
Something flickered in his eyes. “More times than I care to admit.”
Claire realized she was still gripping his hands. She should let go. Should pull back. Should re-establish professional distance.
She didn’t.
“Can you stand?” Wolf asked.
“I think so.”
He helped her up, his hand on her elbow. Steady. Strong. Safe. “I can take you back to your room.”
Claire’s hands fisted in his shirt. She couldn’t let go. Didn’t want to let go. She needed him close. Needed his strength because hers was gone.
“Claire?”
“Please.” Her voice broke. “Just... Stay with me right here for a minute. I need something to hold on to.”
Wolf tensed, his discomfort radiating through him, but he didn’t pull away. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
She believed it. Something deep inside her let go of the tension. “Thank you for understanding. For not…you know.”
Slowly, carefully, his arms came around her. One hand on her back. One on her head, cradling her against his chest. “I do know. You’re incredibly strong and brave, but it’s okay to acknowledge you’ve been through a trauma.”
Yes. It was nearly impossible for her to do, but she knew he was right. Her therapist had told her that same thing over and over again.
Until now, in this moment, she’d refused to go there. Refused to let herself show any weakness.
But in the safety of his arms, she knew he didn’t see her as weak. He saw her for who she was—strong and brave, even if she’d been through hell.
She closed her eyes, and her breathing became easy. So easy. His heart beat steadily under her ear. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm her body matched. He smelled like soap, his tactical gear, and something else.
Safety.
“Tell me something,” Wolf said quietly. “Something good. A favorite memory.”
“What?”
“Anything. Your favorite food. A place you’ve traveled. Just...something that isn’t this.”
Claire chuckled. “Ice cream. Cookie dough ice cream from this place in Georgetown. Lily and I would beg her mom to take us there every Saturday in the summer.”
“What else?”
“Books. I read everything. Thrillers, mysteries, sci-fi. Anything that takes me out of my head for a while.”
“Do you have a favorite?”
“The Martian. I’ve read it five times.”
She felt rather than heard his almost-laugh. “Stranded on Mars. Sounds relaxing.”
“It’s about survival. Problem-solving. Not giving up even when everything’s against you.”
“No wonder you like it.”
Claire pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His face was inches from hers. This close, she could see those gold flecks in his green eyes again. The small scar above his left eyebrow. The way his lips quirked with what seemed like genuine pleasure that he’d made her forget the bad memories. That she was clutching him like a lifeline.
