His jaw ticked. "Things."
"You know. Girl stuff."
"Emma."
"What?" I turned in my seat, tucking one leg beneath me so I could face him properly. "We compared notes. Swapped stories." I let a wicked grin spread across my face. "Compared dick sizes."
The car swerved.
"What?"
"Relax." I laughed, grabbing the door handle for balance. "I'm kidding. Mostly."
"Mostly?" His voice pitched higher than I'd ever heard it.
"You won, if that helps."
He smirked, familiar arrogance sliding back into place. "I knew I would."
I swatted his arm. "Your ego is exhausting."
"You love it," he teased, grinning.
I shook my head, turning back toward the windshield.
"We talked about protocols," I offered. "What they were. What they looked like for her. For you two, back when you were together."
His thumb resumed its slow circles on my thigh. "And?"
"And..." I chewed my lip, trying to organize the tangle of thoughts still spinning through my head. "She told me about the clothes. How you picked them out for her every morning."
He nodded slowly. "I did."
"You do that for me too."
"I do."
A small smile curved my lips. "I knew it was one of the rules—you told me at the collaring. But I didn't realize. Hearing Vivian describe it..." I trailed off, searching for the right words.
"Context matters," he said quietly. "A rule on its own is just a rule. But when you see how it fits into the larger picture..."
"It becomes something else," I finished.
"Yes."
The chaos of the hospital, the merger, the exhaustion that had seeped into both of us like groundwater. The clothes had been the one constant—every morning, something laid out for me, chosen with care. Even when everything else had fallen away.
Such a small thing, but it had survived all those days.
"She mentioned other things too," I continued. "Asking permission before leaving the house. The way she texted you—lowercase i, uppercase You." I paused. "The braiding."
His hand stilled once again.
"She told you about that."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
