It’s not a question.
I consider lying.
It would be easier.
Cleaner.
But—
“No,” I admit.
His jaw tightens just slightly, like that answer costs him something.
Or maybe it gives him something.
“I’m here,” he says.
I study him.
Not the soldier.
Not the reputation.
The man sitting in front of me who chose not to leave.
“You don’t hover,” I say quietly.
His brow furrows a fraction. “Should I?”
“No,” I reply. “It’s just… different.”
“How?”
I shift slightly on the bed, pulling one leg up, grounding myself in the movement.
“Most people either take over,” I say, “or they keep their distance because they don’t know what to do.”
“And me?”
“You wait.”
That lands between us.
Heavy.
True.
His gaze holds mine. “You needed that.”
“I did.”
Another silence.
But this one isn’t empty.
It’s… steady.
“You weren’t what I expected,” I say after a moment.
