That gets his attention.
“From what?” he asks.
“Raine.”
A faint shift in his expression—something almost like amusement, gone as quickly as it came.
“That could mean anything.”
“It does,” I agree softly. “She talks about you like you’re… unstoppable.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
His eyes narrow slightly, not defensive—curious.
“I saw you hesitate,” I continue.
That stills him completely.
“Back there,” I add. “When you first saw me.”
He doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t deny it.
“That wasn’t weakness,” I say. “It was… recognition.”
Something flickers in his eyes.
Deeper now.
“You looked at me like I mattered,” I finish.
A long pause stretches between us.
“You do,” he says.
Simple.
Uncomplicated.
But it lands harder than anything else he could have said.
I look down at my hands, at the way they’re still not entirely steady.
“You’re the only thing that kept me present,” I admit quietly.
His head tilts slightly. “Explain that.”
“I couldn’t control what he did,” I say. “But I could control how I responded.”
My fingers tighten slightly in the fabric of his jacket.
“So I focused on timing. On patterns. On the system,” I continue. “And on you.”
“On me.”
