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She frowns slightly.
“I wasn’t going to leave you.”
“Even though you told me to stay out of it?”
“Yes.”
“Even though I didn’t listen?”
“Yes.”
A beat.
Then—
“…don’t read into that,” she adds.
Too late.
Way too late.
I shift slightly, testing the wound.
Pain flares.
Manageable.
I can move.
Good.
Because we’re not done yet.
Not even close.
“They’ll regroup,” I say. “Push in tighter.”
“I know.”
“We need to move before they do.”
She nods.
Already back in it.
Focused.
Controlled.
But something’s changed.
Just a little.
Just enough.
We both feel it.
Neither of us says it.
