“That’s not useless,” I said immediately.
She gave a humorless laugh. “Well, it sure felt like it.”
“Amanda.” I waited until she looked at me. “You moved the second it mattered. You got out. You told us. You survived something most people wouldn’t walk away from.”
Her eyes flickered. I didn’t know if she believed me, but she heard me.
She tried to lie back down, but her body wouldn’t settle. She stared at the ceiling like every memory she didn’t want was playing above us.
I stood.
“You don’t have to—” she started.
I ignored that.
I slid onto the bed beside her, just sitting at first, then leaning back against the headboard. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t crowd her. I just gave her something solid to lean against.
Every instinct I had screamed to pull her closer.
To wrap her up. Lock the door. Put myself between her and every nightmare she hadn’t finished outrunning yet.
That was the old wiring.
The part of me that believed safety was something you enforced instead of built. That protection meant control. That if I held on tight enough, nothing could get through.
But this wasn’t a battlefield.
And she wasn’t a mission.
She was choosing proximity. Choosing contact. Choosing me.
If I crossed that line without her asking, I’d take that choice away.
So I stayed still.
And waited.
She glanced at me again, confused for half a breath, and then something in her shoulders loosened. Just an inch, but I saw it.
“You okay?” I asked.
“No.” Her voice cracked. “But I’m better with you here.”
That hit somewhere deep. Far deeper than I was ready for.
I shifted so she had room to move if she wanted. She didn’t. She scooted closer, hesitating only a moment before resting her back against my chest. Not curled up. Not fragile. Just… close.
Close enough I felt the warmth of her through my shirt. Close enough her hair brushed my jaw when she breathed. Close enough my whole damn body went tight in an instant.
I forced myself to stay still.
Control wasn’t optional here.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay,” I said quietly.
“I’m not pretending.” Her hand lifted, clutching a handful of my shirt like she didn’t know she was doing it. “I just… I don’t feel this scared when you’re here.”
There it was. The thing she didn’t say in the last four days.
