I turned onto my side again, propping myself up slightly. “Does that scare you.”
He met my gaze. “It makes me careful.”
“That’s not an answer.”
A pause. Then, “Yes.”
The honesty landed harder than any reassurance could have.
“What scares you,” I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer right away. His hand slid from my waist to my back, firm and warm.
“That I’ll miss something,” he said. “That I’ll assume you’re okay when you’re not. That I’ll try to fix when you just need me to listen.”
My throat tightened.
“You’re doing okay so far,” I said.
“I’m trying,” he replied. “And if I screw it up, I want you to tell me.”
I studied his face. The faint bruise near his jaw. The scar at his temple. The man who’d fought like hell to get me back and then learned how to stay still beside me.
“I will,” I promised.
He nodded, like that mattered more than anything else.
Later, we moved slowly through the morning. No rush. No agenda. I showered while he stayed close, not hovering, just present. When I flinched at the sudden burst of hot water, he noticed, but didn’t comment. Just adjusted the temperature and handed me the soap.
We dressed. We ate. We existed.
Outside, the compound was waking up. Scout was in the yard with Ranger, moving stiffly through a series of controlled stretches. Ghost passed by the window, expression unreadable as always. Life continued, uneven and real.
I felt a twinge of guilt watching Scout. The familiar whisper that said I’d been rescued and he’d suffered longer.
Wrecker caught the shift in my expression.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “Where’d you go.”
I hesitated. Then told the truth. “I feel bad that I’m… better today.”
He shook his head gently. “Healing isn’t a competition.”
“I know.”
“And Scout being hurt longer doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to heal faster,” he added. “You don’t carry his pain by staying broken.”
That settled something in me.
We stepped outside together later, the air crisp and clean. I stretched, feeling my muscles respond. Not perfect. Not pain-free. But capable.
I took a deep breath.
“I don’t want to live waiting for the next bad thing,” I said.
Wrecker stood beside me, solid as a wall. “Then don’t.”
I looked at him. “It’s not that simple.”
