“We got everything,” he utters.
“Yeah.”
I blow out a breath, still staring at the dead man, but my mind is somewhere else.
Tyler shifts slightly, his hand brushing mine then settling there, warm, holding me in place.
“Are you okay?” he implores, concern in his voice.
I squeeze his hand once, leaning into him.
“I am.”
He watches me anyway. Through the worst parts of it. He always does.
“You didn’t push too far, did you?” he murmurs.
A small huff slips free, somewhere between a sigh and a tired laugh.
“You would’ve stopped me.”
“Yeah,” he states matter-of-factly. “I would’ve.”
Eventually I meet his eyes with my fingers already interlocked with his. I nod once, anchoring myself to him.
“Good,” I manage.
He studies me, seeing me underneath all the blood then lifts his free hand, caressing his thumb lightly along my jaw like he’s pulling me fully back.
“You’re still here,” he confirms.
My face seeking his touch without realizing it.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m here.”
After a moment, his hand drops, but his fingers stay threaded with mine.
“We should go,” he whispers.
“Yeah.”
I cast one final glance at the garage and turn my back on it. Tyler matches my pace. By the time we reach the car our hands separate.
He opens the passenger door for me, a small act of care that has become habitual.
I pause, peering up at him.
“You know I can do that myself.”
“I know,” he replies, a smile tugging at his mouth. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.”
Warmth blooms in my chest as I shake my head and don’t argue, sliding into the seat.
Tyler closes the door and rounds the car, then gets in, shutting his door as well.
It’s quiet again but different now. Safer.
He starts the engine, the low rumble vibrating the space.
