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“Right here,” she said quietly.
Her tone had changed—softened and deepened. I lay my head on her shoulder and looked up at her. I flexed the muscles of my arm a bit and watched her smile.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
She shrugged and then moved her finger slowly back and forth over the edge of the muscle.
“They have the strength to keep me safe,” she said. “They’ve saved me, protected me, and made me feel secure at night, but they are also soft and gentle with me.”
She gripped my arm as I brought my hand up to cup her face. I brought her closer to me and covered her lips with mine. We kissed a couple of times before she moved her hand to my face and looked into my eyes.
“Please quit fighting,” she whispered.
My chest tightened up.
“Tria…”
“You could have died,” she said. “I heard them say if Yolanda hadn’t done everything she did while we were waiting for the ambulance, you could have died from the blood loss.”
“I didn’t,” I told her.
“Not the point.”
“You just said you like my strength,” I reminded her.
“That doesn’t mean I like the fighting.”
For a long moment we just looked at each other, neither of us wanting to budge.
“It’s not going to happen, Tria,” I said quietly. “It’s what I do. It’s all I do. Maybe someday but not now.”
“You could get hurt again,” she said. “What am I going to do if something horrible happens to you?”
“I’ve been doing this a long time,” I said. “This is the first time something like this has happened.”
“Yolanda said you got stabbed before.”
“That was a scratch.”
She eyed me with a tight mouth and a hard look. I pushed her hair away from her face, and then I ran my thumb over her cheekbone. Moving closer, I kissed her slowly and gently until the door opened.
“I thought I told you nothing strenuous,” the doctor said with a half smile and a raise of his eyebrow.
“I guess some people consider this strenuous,” I replied with a shrug. “Maybe you need a little more practice or something. It’s just like breathing to me.”
“No more practice needed,” he said. “I’m perfect already.”
He didn’t make Tria move as he checked out my side, adjusted my IV, and generally fucked around with the equipment around my bed.
“You’re doing well,” he said.
“So I can go home now?”
“Soon,” he replied.
“When’s soon?” I asked.
“Before later,” he said as he made a couple of notes on the chart at the end of the bed and walked out.
