“I wasn’t going anywhere.”
I believe him.
I always do.
I study his face.
He looks—
different.
Tired.
Worn.
Like he’s been through something too.
“…you okay?” I manage.
That almost makes him laugh.
Almost.
“I’m fine,” he says.
Lie.
I know it.
He knows I know it.
But I don’t push.
Not right now.
My hand tightens weakly in his.
“…the kids…”
Of course that’s where my mind goes.
His expression shifts.
Softens.
“They got more out,” he says. “Clay and the team are getting the rest.”
Relief hits hard.
Stronger than anything else.
“Good…”
My eyes close briefly.
Not from weakness.
From release.
