“You look scared.”
The word lands harder than it should.
“Yeah,” I admit.
Her thumb brushes across my knuckles.
“I’m still here.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “But you almost weren’t.”
Her gaze softens.
“You came back.”
I shake my head slowly.
“I was too late.”
“You weren’t,” she whispers.
Her grip tightens weakly.
“Tank… you didn’t fail me.”
I look at her then.
Really look.
At the pale skin, the oxygen line beneath her nose, and the bandages wrapped around her leg.
“I was supposed to keep you safe,” I say.
Her eyes hold mine.
“You did.”
“How the hell do you figure that?” I ask roughly.
“Because I’m still alive,” she says softly.
The room goes quiet again.
Then she adds, barely louder than a breath,
“And because you came back to me just like you promised.”
My chest tightens.
“I always will,” I murmur.
She smiles faintly.
“Good,” she whispers. “Because I’m starting to think I might need you around.”
“Yeah?” I ask, hope swelling in my chest. “You forgive me?”
“I did a long time ago,” she admits quietly. “I was just scared to let myself be that vulnerable with you again.”
