Reid crosses the room in three long strides.
“I’m fine,” I murmur. “I just—sat down.”
His eyes scan me once, then again. Clearly, he doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t argue.
“Okay,” he says, crouching beside me, a deep frown carved into his beautiful face. “Let me help.”
His hands are warm beneath my arms, careful but firm as he lifts me easily into his chest. I let my body sink against his, exhausted and trembling in ways I can’t fully explain.
He carries me through the hall, past the living room, and into the bathroom. The world tilts a little as he lowers me onto the closed lid of the toilet, crouching in front of me.
I stare at the grout between the tiles as he brushes my hair behind my ear, then gently lifts my foot into his lap to peel off the second shoe.
His thumb brushes the edge of a raw blister. It’s worse than the others—torn and red and angry.
“Christ, Havoc.”
“It’s just a blister.”
“It’s three.”
His jaw tightens, and I can see him swallow the thing he wants to say, the thing that’s clawing at the back of his throat. Instead, he shifts closer and lifts my foot into his lap, reaching for a tissue from the vanity to dab away the worst of it.
“You didn’t stop,” he says quietly. “You didn’t even sit.”
“Didn’t have time.”
“Are you limping?”
“Not badly.”
His hands still, and his thumb rests against the arch of my foot, holding me there.
“This isn’t sustainable,” he murmurs.
“It has to be.”
A breath passes between us. Thick and taut and full of everything neither of us is saying.
Then he reaches over to the bath and turns the taps on. Tests the temperature with his hand under the stream, adds a fewdrops of lavender oil from the tray by the mirror, then pulls a clean towel from the cabinet.
“I got knocked from a case today,” I whisper, watching him. “I didn’t even fight it. Just stood there and let them reassign a fracture case and whisper about whether I’m fragile or unstable or sleeping with a married man.”
Reid stills.
My voice wobbles. “They think I’ve lost it. That I’m not good enough anymore.”
He looks up, eyes locking with mine. “You are.”
I shake my head again. “I haven’t missed a single consult, you know? I’ve hit every target, and I’ve been managing it. But today, it wasn’t about what Icando. They just… decided for me. They didn’t even ask.”
My jaw trembles, and I bite down hard to keep it steady. “Like I forgot how to do my fucking job because I have a uterus and a due date.”
Reid reaches up, brushes his fingers along my shin, and waits.
“I feel like I’m being erased,” I whisper. “Bit by bit.”
He exhales, but his hand tightens around my ankle like he’s anchoring both of us.
