“I’m just saying you don’t have to carry it alone.”
There it is again.
That flicker.
That hesitation she doesn’t let anyone see.
The storm rumbles outside, thunder cracking through the air like a warning.
Inside—
Everything narrows.
Just us.
Her voice drops.
“You almost collapsed back there.”
I smirk slightly. “Didn’t.”
“You were about to.”
“Still didn’t.”
Her eyes narrow.
And there it is.
That spark.
God, I love that spark.
“You’re impossible,” she mutters.
“Yeah,” I agree easily. “But I’m still here.”
Her gaze drops briefly—to my chest, my shoulder, the blood I haven’t bothered to clean yet.
Then back to my eyes.
“That’s not something you should be testing tonight.”
I reach out without thinking, my fingers brushing her wrist.
Warm.
Steady.
Real.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
It comes out quieter than I expect.
More honest, too.
Something in her breath catches.
