I shifted slightly, testing the space inside myself the way I’d learned to do. Checking for tension, for that familiar coil of panic that used to snap tight without warning.
There was soreness. A dull ache in my thighs. A quiet awareness of my body that hadn’t been there before.
But no fear.
No shame.
Just… me.
I turned onto my side, tucking myself closer, pressing my cheek against his chest. His arm tightened automatically, pulling me in without waking. His chin dipped, breath warm against my hair.
Safe.
The word didn’t feel like a lie anymore.
Eventually, he stirred. His hand slid along my back, slow and lazy, like he was mapping me again just to be sure I was still there.
“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
I smiled into his skin. “Morning.”
He cracked one eye open, then the other, gaze focusing on me with that familiar intensity. Still sharp even when he was half-awake.
“You okay?” he asked.
It wasn’t suspicion. It wasn’t hovering.
It was care.
“I am,” I said honestly.
He studied my face for a beat longer, then nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”
We stayed like that for a while. No rush. No pressure. Just breathing together while the compound woke up around us.
When I finally slid out of bed, he followed, pulling on jeans while I tugged on one of his shirts. It swallowed me, sleevesbrushing my knuckles, the scent of him grounding in a way that felt almost unfair.
Outside, the compound looked… normal.
Men moved through their routines. Ranger crossed the yard with Smoke trotting at his heel. Brutus leaned against the porch railing, coffee in hand, arguing with Doc about something medical I didn’t care to follow. Cap stood near the gate, phone pressed to his ear, posture relaxed but alert.
Scout sat at the long picnic table, one leg stretched out awkwardly, forearms resting on the wood as he laughed at something Ranger said. His laugh was quieter than it used to be. Rougher around the edges.
But it was real.
He caught my eye and lifted his mug in a small salute. “Mornin’, Red.”
“Morning,” I replied.
The knot that had lived in my chest every time I saw him loosened a fraction more.
Alive didn’t mean fine.
But it meant here.
I helped in the kitchen that morning. Not because anyone asked. Because I wanted to. I chopped vegetables while Ariel worked the stove, the two of us moving around each other with easy familiarity. She gave me a long look at one point, then smiled.
“You look lighter,” she said.
