The sheep looks at him.
Then at me.
Then sighs and closes his eyes like he’s finally accepted his fate.
Am I hallucinating?
I carefully bandage the hoof.
Finn remains kneeling beside Ragnar, one hand resting against his side.
We work in silence.
A strangely comfortable silence despite the tension hanging between us since last night.
“That was impressive,” Finn murmurs.
“What was?”
“You. With him.”
I glance up at him.
His gray eyes are fixed on me.
Intense.
Vulnerable.
Exactly like they were on the terrace last night right before he kissed me.
“He doesn’t hate me anymore,” I say quietly. “He tolerates me.”
A smile brushes his lips.
“That’s huge coming from him.”
Silence settles again.
But it’s no longer comfortable.
It’s charged.
Electric.
Dangerous.
“You are too, you know.”
He frowns slightly.
“What?”
“You’re impressive. With patients. With… everything.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
I didn’t calculate them. Didn’t measure them.
