Caro looked up, blinking back tears. “I don’t feel fine.”
“Most people would’ve curled up in a corner by now.” He kept his voice level. “You’re still standing and helping. That counts.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay. Okay”.
“Hey. Look at me.”
Caro’s eyes lifted.
“You’ve got this, Sparks.”
With a nod, Caro rolled her shoulders back, sniffed, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Right. Sugar’s good for shock, yeah? Let me see if there’s any chocolate in here.”
She moved off, calmer now, searching cabinets.
Wyatt turned his attention back to Jen. Her head tilted.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” But she smiled before returning to his bandage. “Just thank you. For that.”
“For what?”
“Being kind to her.” She tied off the wrap. “She needed it.”
He gave a dismissive shake of his head. “You know climbing back up to me was the bravest or the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jen didn’t look up, her fingers pressing briefly against his thigh to test the tension. “Can’t it be both?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “It can.”
“I think that’ll hold. For now.” She sat back on her heels, surveying her work, and blew out a long breath, his blood staining her hands. “Give me your arm.”
He held it out. The slash was shallow. A defensive wound, the blade had caught on the wrong angle. She cleaned it fast, and wrapped it tight.
“You’re going through my supplies,” she muttered.
“Send me a bill.”
A smile ticked her mouth before she pressed two gel capsules into his palm. “They won’t fix it, but they’ll take the edge off.”
He swallowed them with a swig of water, then drew a breath to recalibrate. Connection wasn’t in his DNA—training had wiped it from his system—taught him that attachment was weakness, that caring got people killed. He was what happened when things went wrong. A weapon with a pulse, too comfortable with violence, too used to being the last line of defense.
She’d seen his scars in engineering control. Seen the proof of who he’d been, what he’d done. And she hadn’t run or looked at him differently. She’d saved him even though she’d seen the violence in him—risked her life to cut through a terrorist’s harness while dangling above the ocean.
She’d chosen risk, and him, when safety had been within reach.
The thought terrified him more than the knife wound had.
But it was there now. Couldn’t be unseen.
What if?—
He shut the thought down hard. Some questions didn’t lead anywhere safe. Instead, he forced his attention off Jen and back where it belonged—on the mission, the station, the threat still closing in.
“Here I found these. Not much, but…” Caro handed him an open packet of cookies.
“Thanks.” Wyatt levered one out with his thumb and offered the packet to Jen.
