He looked away again.
“Maybe that’s why it keeps coming back,” I added carefully. “You never stopped carrying it.”
He didn’t respond right away. Just sat there, still, maybe turning my words over, maybe sinking somewhere deeper than he was ready to share. I stayed quiet, unsure if anything else I could say would help.
After a moment, he said, “Thank you.”
“I told you?—”
“I know.” He turned fully toward me, his shoulder leaning into the couch. “I still need to say it.”
I mirrored him without thinking.
“Thank you for staying with me,” he went on. “For being here.” A beat. “I know you’re still mad at me.”
“Ash, let’s get some sleep, okay?” I said. “I promise we can talk about this tomorrow. We’re running on fumes.”
And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that conversation yet. Not after everything he’d just shared. I wasn’t sure I’d be firm enough.
“Today can just be about this,” I added. “About you. I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes searched my face, like he was looking for something to contradict him. When he didn’t find it, he nodded.
He leaned his elbow on the couch and dragged a hand through his hair, the movement drawing my attention to his neck, to the collar of his shirt.
Something caught the light.
My heart kicked hard in my chest, and I reached out without thinking, fingers closing around the chain and lifting it.
Until a necklace rested in my hand.
Until the medallion lay warm in my palm. Gold. A simplePetched into the surface.
“Why are you wearing this?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer right away. When I looked up, his expression was open again. Vulnerable.
“I always wear it.”
I shook my head slowly. That couldn’t be right. I would have noticed.I would have known.
“I don’t when I run,” he said. “But otherwise—it’s on.”
“Why?” I watched him closely, waiting for him to shut down, to deflect, to pull away.
He didn’t. He tilted his head, a small smile touching his mouth. Soft. Familiar. “You know why.”
So I can always keep you close to my heart.
That’s what he’d said.
Four years ago, right before he left.
His gaze dropped to my neck, bare where the chain should have been, then lifted again. Something pained flickered there. “Did you throw yours away?” There was a trace of humor in his tone, but it didn’t hide the truth underneath it.
“Of course not, Ash,” I said. “It’s safe. I just don’t?—”
“I get it,” he cut in quickly. “You didn’t have to keep it. It’s okay—I had that coming.”
