“I needed you,” I say quietly.
The words land between us, heavier than anything else.
“And Jesse needs you.”
His throat moves as he swallows.
“I know.”
“Do you?” I press. “Because it didn’t look like it out there.”
“It looked like I was trying to keep you alive,” he says, a hint of heat breaking through.
“It looked like you were ready to die.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like, Bron?” I demand.
He stands.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Closing the distance between us until we’re standing close enough that I can feel the heat of him.
“It was like this,” he says quietly. “It was like knowing that if I didn’t step in, that thing would get closer to the compound.”
I hold my ground.
“And?”
“And you were there,” he continues. “And Jesse was there.”
His voice drops.
“And there was no version of reality where I let that happen.”
The anger in my chest falters.
Shifts.
Because that?—
That I understand.
“That doesn’t mean you throw your life away,” I say, softer now.
“I wasn’t throwing it away.”
“You were risking it.”
“Yes.”
“For us.”
I hesitate.
