Her breath caught again. “Why?”
I answered honestly. Quietly.
“Because I want to.”
There.
Truth I’d been circling for days.
Something she needed to hear and something I needed to say.
She didn’t speak for a long time. Her body relaxed slowly, like her muscles were unclenching one at a time. Eventually her head dropped fully onto my chest, cheek pressing against the front of my shirt.
“You smell like my soap,” I muttered without thinking.
She stiffened. “Sorry—your shower was closer?—”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
That came out lower than I meant it.
Her breath brushed through the fabric of my shirt. “I didn’t think anyone would want me near them right now. I feel… messy.”
“You’re allowed to be messy,” I said. “You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to need someone.”
“And you’re okay with that someone being you?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah, sweetheart.” My voice dropped. “I am.”
Her fingers tightened in my shirt again, just a little. Enough to make something in my chest pull tight.
We stayed like that until I knew I had to move or I wasn’t going anywhere. The recon ride wasn’t optional and leaving her like this was the last thing I wanted.
But the club needed me.
Walking away from her like this went against every instinct I had.
Leaving when she was finally breathing evenly. When her body had stopped shaking. When she’d trusted me enough to let go.
But staying when I wanted to wasn’t the same as staying when she needed me to.
If I stayed because I couldn’t stand to leave, that wasn’t comfort.
That was dependency.
And I refused to turn what she was building into something fragile.
So I made myself step back. Let her feel that I would come back. Not because she begged, but because I said I would.
I eased my arm from around her, and her whole body reacted. Tensing, grabbing, trying to pull me back without meaning to.
“Don’t go,” she breathed.
My chest cracked open. “I have to.”
Her eyes lifted to mine. Wide, scared, stubborn. Amanda. Every version of her all at once.
“Promise you’ll come back?”
