Tears burn behind my eyes, and I blink them back furiously. I will not cry in front of this man. I will not fall apart just because he sees me in a way no one else has.
"I don't feel strong," I whisper. "I feel broken."
"Broken and strong aren't opposites. Sometimes the strongest people are the ones who've been shattered and put themselves back together."
"Is that what you are? Shattered and put back together?"
"I'm shattered and still figuring out where the pieces go."
He's not pretending to have all the answers. Not claiming to be fixed or whole or anything other than exactly what he is: damaged and trying to survive, just like me.
I notice for the first time that he's still wearing the same bloody clothes from earlier, that his face is drawn with exhaustion, that his injured shoulder is held against his body.
"You look like shit," I say, because apparently even in crisis I can't stop being a bitch.
His lips twitch in that almost-smile I'm starting to recognize. "Right back at you."
"How long was I asleep?"
"Couple hours, maybe. Long enough for the pain meds to kick in but not long enough for you to actually rest."
"Were you here the whole time?"
He doesn't answer, which is answer enough.
"You should have left," I say, even though part of me is grateful he stayed. "Gone to your own room. Actually rested instead of babysitting me."
"Wasn't babysitting. Was keeping watch."
"Why?"
"Because you asked me to stay."
It's such a simple answer, but it hits me harder than it should. He stayed because I asked. Not because he had to, not because King ordered him to, but because I asked and that was enough.
When was the last time anyone did something for me just because I asked? When was the last time I mattered enough for someone to put their own needs aside?
Marcus sure as hell never did. He was always too busy, too tired, too focused on his own shit to notice when I needed him. And before him, my parents were too wrapped up in each other to see their daughter slowly disappearing into the background of their epic love story.
But Shadow stayed. This silent, deadly man who barely knows me stayed in an uncomfortable chair for hours just because I asked him to.
"Thank you," I say, and my voice cracks on the words.
"You keep thanking me. Gonna think you actually like having me around."
"Don't push it."
He stands slowly, favoring his injured shoulder, and I can see how much pain he's in even though he's trying to hide it. The man took a bullet for me and has been on his feet ever since, making sure I was okay, getting me food, staying when I asked.
And I've done nothing but be a bitch to him.
"Shadow?" He pauses at the door, looking back. "I'm sorry. For being so difficult. You didn't deserve that."
"Yeah, I did. You don't know me. Don't trust me. Smart to keep your guard up." He leans against the doorframe, and I can seethe exhaustion pulling at him. "But for what it's worth, you're safe here. King runs a tight ship, and none of the brothers would hurt you. You have my word on that."
"Your word worth anything?"
"It's the only thing that is."
