Like she’s already adjusted the rhythm.
That realization tightens something in my chest that has nothing to do with lawyers.
“You okay?” she asks quietly.
“Yes.”
I don’t add anything to soften it. No joke. No deflection. No ‘I’ll manage.’
I actually mean it.
I walk her to the door.
There’s a charged pause in the hallway.
We stand close enough to feel each other’s heat.
Almost.
“Hey,” I say softly before she can step back. “Thank you. For tonight. For trusting me with this.”
She holds my gaze.
“I know this is a lot,” I add. “I won’t take it lightly. I won’t take you lightly.”
I hesitate, then let myself ask. “Can I hug you again?”
She softens just slightly. “Yes,” she says.
I pull her in carefully this time, slower, giving her space to step away if she wants to.
She doesn’t.
Her arms wrap around me fully, no hesitation now, and the second hug settles deeper than the first.
It’s steadier. Less relief. More choice.
Intentional.
She meets my eyes.
“We tell Mason tomorrow,” she says.
Something shifts in her expression now. Not doubt. More like she’s already bracing for impact.
“He’s going to lose his mind,” I say.
“He’s going to assume you manipulated me,” she replies dryly.
“I didn’t.”
“I know.” She pauses. “But he’ll still threaten bodily harm.”
“I can take him.”
She gives me a look. “You think so?”
I straighten. “Yeah. I can. Doesn’t mean I want to fight him, but I can handle your brother. I’ve taken harder hits.”
