“That’s not…” My voice wavers, and I have to press my lips together to keep it together. “That’s not a joke situation.”
He huffs a sound that might be a laugh. “Little bit of a joke situation.”
“It’s absolutely…”
“You’re alive,” he says softly.
That stops everything.
The words land differently than the rest, real in a way that cuts through the noise.
His smile shifts, less performance now, a steadiness underneath it. “That’s kind of the headline.”
I nod, because I don’t trust my voice to hold if I try to use it again.
Zane’s hand adjusts at my back, like he feels the shift before I do. “Stay with me.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
There’s movement behind Finn then. Heavy. Controlled. Familiar in a way that settles somewhere deeper than thought.
I look.
Ryder.
He stops a few feet away, like there’s something about the distance he doesn’t quite know how to cross yet.
And the entire room bends around that space.
He’s looking at me like he’s trying to reconcile two versions of the world, one where I was here, and one where I wasn’t, and he hasn’t decided which one he believes yet.
There’s blood on his hands.
Not his.
His chest rises once, like breathing is an act he has to choose.
I’ve never seen him like this, raw in a way he doesn’t let himself be.
My body moves before my brain catches up.
Zane loosens his hold just enough, and I step forward… or try to. My legs are unreliable, my balance questionable at best, but it doesn’t matter.
I reach him anyway.
My hands come up to his face without permission.
They’re still shaking. Everything is. But I hold him there, feel the warmth of his skin under my palms, the rough edge of stubble, the tension sitting just beneath the surface like something held too tight for too long.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
It isn’t entirely true, but it’s close enough to be real, so I cling to it anyway.
“I’m okay,” I repeat, softer now. “I’m here.”
His eyes close, like that’s all it takes for him to finally release everything
