I let the silence stretch, rocking him, thumb tracing lazy circles into the soft skin at his nape. Eventually, he exhaled, a shaky, surrendering sigh.
The past few days hadn’t been easy for either of us.
It was as if routine and structure were the only things holding him together at this point. Possibly our prolific sex life, too.
At first, I’d mistaken his quiet for contentment. But it hadn’t taken long for the cracks to show in his delicate, fabricated calm.
The first night, I’d woken to whimpers from his side of the bed. He’d been tangled in the sheets, clutching his knees to his chest, eyes squeezed tightly shut. I tried to draw him outof it with soft words, holding him until he stilled, and once he was calm, I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and told him he was safe, that it was just us here, always. That seemed to help. But every night since, he’d slept less and less, nightmares stealing him away and leaving him raw.
He was gentler with me than he was with himself. If I guided him, he followed. If I told him what to eat, when to rest, how to lay his head in my lap while I stroked the fine knots out of his hair, he obeyed without hesitation. But if I hesitated for a moment—left a gap in the day for his own wants to assert themselves—he drifted, lost and increasingly adrift in his own head.
It shamed me how grateful I was that his first therapy appointment was tomorrow. I’d spent years thinking professional shrinks were obstacles, interference to be eluded or manipulated, but right now, the idea of someone else taking a shift—someone trained to gently scoop up the pieces of him I couldn’t reach—felt like a gift. Even if I didn’t trust the therapist not to try to poison the well between us. Even if I half-suspected their entire agenda would be wrestling Elior’s loyalty away from me, one hour at a time. I’d take the risk.
Because I couldn’t have Elior if there were no Elior.
* * *
“What are you doing here?” I glared at the two familiar individuals sitting in the reception area.
Elior smiled cautiously at them, raising his hand for an awkward little wave. “Hi, Mr. Patel. Hi, Ms. Elena.”
Elena—Elior’s case worker or something, I didn’t quite remember—was already on her feet before I could say anythingelse.
“Hey, honey,” she said warmly, closing the distance between them with practiced ease. She didn’t look at me at all. Her attention stayed firmly on Elior as she reached out—not touching, just hovering in that careful, trauma-informed way. “It’s really good to see you. How have you been holding up since discharge?”
Elior glanced back at me, a quick, instinctive check-in. I gave him a small nod.
“I’m… okay,” he said softly. “I think. Jace has been helping.”
Elena smiled, genuine and kind. “I’m really glad to hear that. Have you been sleeping at all?”
“A little,” he admitted.
“That’s something,” she said gently. “Your color is back, which is amazing. Have you been eating better since you’ve been home?”
I cleared my throat, irritation spiking. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
Patel stood then. He straightened his jacket and turned to face me, placing himself just far enough away from Elior that it wouldn’t look confrontational. Except by placing himself between us, he had made his intentions clear.
“Elena’s here for a follow-up,” he said evenly. “She wanted to check in with Elior after discharge. Make sure the transition’s going smoothly.”
“And you?” I asked flatly.
His mouth twitched. “I’m here to ensure that you followed instructions. That Elior actually made it to his appointment.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe that’s the only reason.”
His eyes sharpened. “Careful.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice how close you always were to him in the hospital.”
For a fraction of a second, something flickered across Patel’s face—annoyance, maybe. Then it was gone, replaced by cool professionalism.
“This is not about me,” he said quietly. “And it’s not about you, either. Don’t make it that.”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Then what is it about, Patel? Because from where I’m standing, you’ve taken a personal interest in my partner.”
His jaw tightened. “No. I have taken a professional interest in a vulnerable victim whose well-being is still very much in question.”
